The gun-room was empty also. As he entered it, he gave vent to a long sigh of heartfelt relief.
"We're safe now," he told Captain Dove in a guarded tone, and, pulling off his overcoat, smoothed down his crumpled shirt-front. "But you'd better hurry down to the water-gate and make sure that the boat there doesn't go off without us. As soon as Sallie comes along, we'll—"
"But what if she won't come?" asked Captain Dove, becoming recalcitrant again. "And how do you know there's a boat below?"
"You don't suppose Brasse swam ashore, do you!" Slyne retorted impatiently. "The boat that brought him from the Olive Branch was still there a few minutes ago—while I was at the top of the tower. I suppose he told them to wait for him, in case he struck trouble here. But they may not wait much longer, if you waste any more time.
"And, as to Sallie, leave me to manage. If you trip me up again now with any of your damned nonsense," he finished with sudden fury, "I'll go to gaol quite contentedly—and make sure there that you hang."
"I might still make terms with that fellow Carthew," Captain Dove suggested provokingly and with a great air of cunning.
"All right," returned Slyne. "That's enough." And, crossing toward the fireplace, he pressed the bell-push beside the mantel.
Captain Dove snatched up a candle and, with that, made a dart for the panel in the wainscot. It would not move despite his most desperate efforts. Slyne pulled a bunch of keys from one pocket and promptly released the powerful spring-lock. At a sign from him, Mr. Jobling descended the steps below in Captain Dove's wake. Slyne pulled the panel back into place and was seated quietly writing at the table in one corner when a sleepy-looking footman entered the room.
"I want you to take this note along to her ladyship's rooms," said Slyne, and yawned. "Give it to her maid. You needn't wait for an answer."
"Very well, sir," the man returned with all the respect due to Slyne's recent standing there and evidently still without suspicion of any change. Slyne yawned again, as if ready for bed, re-reading what he had written. And then, watching his messenger go off with the missive, breathed a thanksgiving that was, at the same time, a prayer to the goddess of chance who was his deity. For he was taking risks now that were recklessly dangerous and might, at any moment, prove deadly to him.