"Eh? A fortune out of hand—how?"
"The way I described before."
There was a slight scraping sound, such as a rat might have made in burrowing behind the partition.
"What's that?" said Drayton, his face whitening, and his watchful eyes glancing toward the door. "A key in the lock?" he whispered.
"Tut! isn't your own key on the inside?" said Hugh Ritson.
Drayton hung his head in shame at his idle fears.
"I know—I haven't forgot," he muttered, covering his discomfiture.
"It's a pity to stay here and be taken, when you might as easily be safe," said Hugh.
"So it is," Drayton mumbled.
"And go through penal servitude for life, when another man might do it for you," added Hugh, with a ghostly smile.