What was he to do? He could not see the men who had come down, for he was separated from them by the piled-up contents of the cellar; but any attempt to regain the chapel must result in discovery, so he lay motionless, hardly daring to breathe, till he heard more footsteps coming—heavy, shuffling footsteps, as if those who came were loaded; and, waiting till they came nearer and one of the first comers said something aloud, Hilary raised himself slightly, and, almost with the rapidity of thought, covered himself with some of the soft, loose fishing-nets, feet and legs first, then shoulders and head, finally throwing a few more folds over his head, and then lying down.

"Wouldn't be a bad plan to give them a good dose of brimstone," said one of the men.

"Give who a good dose?" said another.

"Why, the rats. Didn't you hear 'em?"

"Oh, ay, yes; I did hear a bit of scuffling. Let 'em bide; they don't do much mischief."

"Not much mischief!" said the other as Hilary felt his hopes rise as he heard the noise attributed to rats. "Why, there's a couple o' hundred fathom o' mack'rel net lying t'other side there gnawed full of holes."

"What o' that?" said the other. "Why, one such night as this, lad, is worth two months o' mack'rel fishing."

"Well, yes, so it be. Ah! that's better. We shall see now what we're about. I say, it was rather a near one with the cutter to-night. I thought she'd ha' been down upon us."

"Down upon us? ay! I wish her skipper was boxed up safe along with young cockchafer yonder."

"Hang his insolence!" thought Hilary. "Young cockchafer, indeed! He'll find me more of a wasp."

"Think anyone sent word to the cutter?"

"Nay, not they. Who would? She's hanging about after her boy."

"Boy, eh? That's I," said Hilary again to himself. "Well, maybe I shall show 'em I can fight like a man!"

"Here, I say," said another voice: "why don't you two begin to stow away these kegs?"

"Never you mind. You bring 'em down from the carts: we know what we're doing."

There was a sound of departing footsteps, and Hilary listened intently.

"Ah!" said one of the men, "if I was the skipper I'd send the young Tom chicken about his business; but the skipper says he knows too much."

"How long's he going to keep him then?"

"Altogether, I s'pose, unless he likes to join us."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the other, who was evidently moving something heavy.

"Well, he might do worse, my lad. Anyhow, they ar'n't going to let him go and bring that cutter down upon us."

"No, that wouldn't do. Lend a hand here. This bag's heavy. What's in it?"

"I don't know. Feels like lead. P'r'aps it is."

"Think the cutter will hang about long?"

"How should I know? I say, though, how staggered them chaps was when they got up to the rock and found no one to fight!"

"I wasn't there."

"Oh, no—more you wasn't. Come along, come along, lads. Here we are waiting for stowage, and you talk about us keeping you waiting."

"You mind your own job," growled the voice that Hilary had heard finding fault before.

There was more scuffling of feet, and then the two men went on talking.

"The cutter's sailors had come, of course, after the boy, and they stumbled on the way through the rocks, just same as the boy did; and we waited for 'em with a few sticks, and then give 'em as much as were good for 'em, and then retreated, big Joey keeping the way till we had all got up the rock, and then up he come in the dark, and you'd have laughed fit to crack your sides to hear them down below whacking at the stones with their cutlashes till they was obliged to believe we was gone, and then they went back with their tails between their legs like a pack of dogs."

The other man laughed as Hilary drank in all this, and learned how the crew had been after him, and realised most thoroughly how it was that he had been brought there, and also the ingenious plan by which the smugglers and the political party with whom they seemed to be mixed up contrived to throw their enemies off the scent. There was an interval, during which the two men seemed to be very busy stowing away kegs and packages, and then they went on again.

"Skipper of the cutter come next day—that one-eyed chap we took in so with the lugger—and his chaps brought him up to the rocks, and then, my wig! how he did give it 'em for bringing them a fool's errand, as he called it! It was a fine game, I can tell you."

"Must have been," said the other, as Hilary drank in this information too, and made mental vows about how he would pay the scoundrels out for all this when once he got free.

Then there was a cessation of the feet coming down the stairs, broken by one step that Hilary seemed to recognise.

"How are you getting on?"

Hilary was right; it was Allstone.

"Waiting for more," was the reply.

"They'll bring up another cart directly," said Allstone in his sulky tone of voice.

"Sooner the better. I'm 'bout tired out. Fine lot o' rats here," said the man.

"Ah, yes! There's a few," said Allstone.

"Heard 'em scuffling about like fun over the other side," said the man.

Hilary felt the cold perspiration ooze out of him as he lay there, dimly seeing through the meshes of the net that he was in a low arched vault of considerable extent, the curved roof being of time-blackened stone, and that here and there were rough pillars from which the arches sprang.

He hardly dared to move, but, softly turning his head, he saw to his horror that the square opening whence he had taken the stone was full in view, the light that left him in darkness striking straight up through the hole.

If they looked up there, he felt that they must see that the stone had been moved, and he shivered as he felt that his efforts to escape had been in vain.

"They're a plaguey long time coming," said the man who had been talking so much. "Here, just come round here, my lad, and I'll show you what I mean about the nets."

"It's all over," said Hilary as he took a firm grip of the hilt of his cutlass, meaning as soon as he was discovered to strike out right and left, and try to escape during the surprise his appearance would cause.

As he lay there, ready to spring up at the smallest indication of his discovery, he saw the shadows move as the men came round by the heap of packages, and enter the narrow passage where he was. The first, bearing a candle stuck between some nails in a piece of wood, was a fair, fresh-coloured young fellow, and he was closely followed by a burly middle-aged man bearing another candle, Allstone coming last.

"There," said the younger man, "there's about as nice a mess for a set o' nets to be in as anyone ever saw;" and he laid hold of the pile that Hilary had drawn over his face.

It was only a matter of moments now, and as he lay there Hilary's nerves tingled, and he could hardly contain himself for eagerness to make his spring.

"Look at that, and that, and that," said the man, picking up folds of the soft brown netting, and seeming about to strip all off Hilary, but by a touch of fate helping his concealment the next moment, by throwing fold after fold over him, till the next thing seemed to be that he would be smothered.

"Tell you what," he said. "They nets are just being spoiled. There's plenty of time before the next cart unloads. Lend a hand here, and let's have 'em all out in the pure air. I hate seeing good trade left down here to spoil in a damp—"

He laid hold of the nets, and as he gave a drag Hilary felt the meshes gliding over his face, and prepared himself to spring up and make a dash for his liberty.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

'TWIXT CUP AND LIP.

Another instant and Hilary must have been discovered; but just then the trampling of feet was heard, a shout or two, and Allstone said gruffly:

"Let the nets alone, and come and get the stuff down."

The man dropped the nets, and taking up his candle, which he had placed upon a chest, followed Allstone back along the narrow passage between the piled-up tubs and packages, and once more Hilary was left in comparative darkness, to lie there dripping with perspiration, and hesitating as to what he should do next, for if he stayed where he was, it was probable that the men would come back to remove the nets. If, on the other hand, he attempted to move, the chances were that he would be heard. In short he dare not move, for the slightest rustle would be sure to take their attention.

And so he lay there in an extremely uncomfortable position, watching the shadows cast upon the dingy ceiling, as the distorted heads and shoulders of the men were seen moving to and fro. Sometimes he could distinguish what they carried, whether it was bale or tub, and upon which shoulder it was carried, till by degrees, as he found that he was not discovered, his thoughts began to turn upon what a grand haul the crew of the Kestrel could make in the way of prize-money if he only had the good fortune to escape, and could find his way back to the shore.

There must have been at least six carts unloaded by slow degrees, and their contents brought down into that vault before Allstone, who was at the head of the steps leading down, suddenly shouted:

"That's all. Look alive up."

"Ay, ay, we're coming," was the reply, and Hilary heard the men drag a case of some kind a little way along the floor with a loud scratching noise.

"I don't like leaving those nets," said the one who had been round. "We don't want 'em now, but the time may come when we shall be glad to go drifting again. What are you doing?"

"Only got a handful of this 'bacco, my boy. I don't see any fun in buying it where there's hundredweights down here."

"Bring me a handful too."

Hilary could resist the temptation no longer, and rising softly, he peered over the piled-up boxes and tubs to get a better view of the place, and make out where the door of exit lay. This he ascertained at a glance, and likewise obtained a pretty good idea of the shape and extent of the vault before the men took up their candles to go.

Now was the critical moment. Would they raise their eyes and see where there was a stone missing in the ceiling? A few moments would decide it, and so excited was Hilary now that he could not refrain from watching the men, though the act was excessively dangerous, and if they had turned their heads in his direction they must have seen him.

But they did not turn their heads as it happened, but went by within a yard of where the young officer was concealed. Then he saw them mount some broad rugged old steps beneath a little archway, whose stones were covered with chisel-marks; there was a Rembrandtish effect as they turned round the winding stair, and then there was the clang of a heavy door, and darkness reigned once more in the vault, for Hilary was alone.

For a few minutes he dared not stir for fear that some one or other of the men might return; but as the time wore on, and he could only hear the sounds of talking in a distant muffled way, he descended from his awkward position, reached the stone floor, and feeling his way along reached the opening through which the men had come, and then stumbling two or three times, and barely saving himself from falling, he found his way to where they had been at work, for his hand came in contact with one of the rough candlesticks thick with grease.

Sure thus far, he was not long in finding the doorway, where he stood listening to dull sounds from above, and then crept back a little way so as to be able to retreat in case the men were coming back, and touching a keg with his foot he sat down upon it to think.

If the door at the top of the stairs was locked he would be no better off than in the chapel, for it was not likely that there would be a window to this place, so that if he meant to escape he felt that it would be better not to leave it to daylight; though, on the other hand, if he did leave it to daybreak, and the door was unfastened, he would have an admirable opportunity of getting away, for by that time the men would have done their night's work, and would probably be fast asleep.

"It is of no use for me to play the coward," said Hilary to himself at last. "If I am to get away it must be by a bold dash."

He burst out into a hearty fit of silent laughter here.

"My word, what a game it would be!" he said. "They say the place is haunted. Suppose I cover myself with fishing-nets and march straight out."

"Wouldn't do!" he said, decidedly. "They would not be such noodles as to be frightened, and they would pop at me with their pistols."

Meanwhile there was a good deal of talking going on up above, and at last, unable to restrain his curiosity longer, Hilary returned to the foot of the steps, felt the wall on either side, and began softly to ascend, counting the steps as he went, and calculating that there would be about twelve.

He was quite right, and as he wound round and neared the top he found that there were rays of light coming beneath the door and through the keyhole, while the sound of voices came much plainer.

Going down on hands and knees, he was able to peer under the door, which shut right upon the top step; and after a few seconds he had pretty well ascertained his position.

He was looking under a door right at the end of a long stone-paved passage, and there was another door just upon his right, which evidently led into his prison; while straight before him, through an opening he could see into a large stone-paved kitchen where the talking was going on, the back of one man being visible as he seemed to be seated upon a stool, and changed his position from time to time.

The next thing to ascertain was whether the door was unfastened; and he was about to rise and try, when the familiar sound of steps upon a boarded floor fell upon his ear, a door that he had not hitherto seen was opened, and Allstone, Sir Henry, and the sharp-looking captain of the lugger passed before him, and, entering the lit-up kitchen, were lost to sight.

There was a louder burst of talking just now, and as it seemed a favourable opportunity Hilary rose to his feet, passed his hand up the side of the door, and touched the great solid hinges. Trying the other side he was more successful, for his hand came in contact with a huge latch which rattled softly at his touch, and set his heart beating heavily.

He paused for a few moments before he tried again, when, proceeding more carefully, he found that the latch rose easily enough; and then as he drew the door towards him it yielded slowly from its great weight; but there was the fact—the way was open for escape, and the place before him was clear.

There was nothing to do then but wait, and he was in the act of closing the door and lowering the latch when he heard Sir Henry's voice speaking, and directly after steps in the passage.

"Allstone has the keys," said a voice Hilary recognised as that of Sir Henry; "will you go and see him now?"

"Look here, Sir Henry," was whispered, "you must get him on our side. The boy would be invaluable. With such an ally on board the cutter we need never fear a surprise."

"You are thinking of your smuggling ventures," said Sir Henry contemptuously.

"I was thinking as much of your despatches. Why, you could have run them across in safety then. Come, Sir Henry, we won't quarrel about that. He'll be useful to both. Shall I go and see him? I'll wager I'll soon bully or bribe him into agreement."

"You don't know your man," said Sir Henry.

"Or boy," laughed the skipper.

"Give me time and I'll win him," said Sir Henry.

"That's what I can't give you," was the reply. "It isn't safe having prisoners here. Suppose the boy escapes. How long should we be before he brings a couple of dozen fellows from the cutter, if they've got so many; and then where shall we be?"

"Do you think he could hear what we say?" asked Sir Henry in so low a voice that Hilary had hard work to catch the words.

"Bah! not he. That door's six inches thick," said the skipper. "No, Sir Henry, there is no time to lose, and we must win him over, unless you'd rather—"

Hilary could not catch the end of what was said, but he suspected what was meant, as he heard Sir Henry utter a sharp exclamation full of anger.

"Leave it till to-morrow, and I think I can bring him to our wishes."

"That is what you said last time, Sir Henry," replied the skipper insolently. "Here, Allstone, give me the key and I'll soon bring the springald to reason."

There was a clink of metal, a step forward, and Hilary's heart sank within him, for the discovery of his evasion was a matter of course.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE WAY TO ESCAPE.

In a moment Hilary mentally saw Sir Henry and the skipper enter his prison, fancied the shout of alarm, and seemed to see himself, cutlass in hand, making a dash for his liberty; but the struggle was not then to be, for, with an angry voice, Sir Henry interposed.

"Martin!" he exclaimed, "let us understand one another once and for all. Your duty, sir, is to obey me, and I'll be obeyed. As to that boy, I tell you I'll win him to our side, but it will be at my own good time. Sir, I order you to come away from that door."

"What!" exclaimed the skipper furiously; "do you know I have a dozen men ready to take my side if I raise my voice?"

"I neither know nor care," cried Sir Henry hoarsely; "but I do know that you have sworn allegiance to King Charles Edward, sir, and that you are my inferior officer in the cause. Disobey me, sir, at your peril."

Hilary grasped his cutlass, and the fighting blood of the Englishman was making his veins tingle.

"If it comes to a tussle," he thought, "there'll be one on Sir Henry's side they don't count upon;" and as he thought this he softly raised the latch, ready to swing open the door and dash out.

But Martin, the skipper, evidently did not care to quarrel with Sir Henry, and his next words were quite apologetic.

"Why, Sir Henry," he said with a rough laugh, "I believe we two were getting out of temper, and that won't do, you know."

"I am not out of temper," said Sir Henry; "but I'll be obeyed, sir."

"And so you shall be, Sir Henry. It's all right, and I'll say no more about it, only that it's dangerous leaving a young fellow like that shut up. These boys are as active as monkeys, and we might return at any time and find the young rascal gone. But you'll do your best to bring him round?"

"I will," replied Sir Henry, "for more reasons than one. Look here, Martin, if I spoke too angrily to you just now I beg your pardon, but you touch upon a tender point when you talk of rough measures towards that boy. I told you that he was my child's companion years ago—in fact, I used to look upon him quite as a son. There," he added hastily, "you may trust me to do my best. Good-night."

"Good-night, Sir Henry, good-night," said the skipper effusively. "I'll trust you. Good-night."

Sir Henry's steps were heard to die away, and so silent was everything that Hilary concluded that the skipper must have also gone; but just as he had made up his mind that this was the case some one uttered an oath.

"Give me the keys, Allstone," Hilary heard the next moment; and once more he concluded that all was over, for there was the jingle of the iron, and it seemed that now he was left to himself Martin was about to visit the young prisoner, and try to frighten him into following out his wishes.

Hilary was in despair, but he made up his mind what to do, and that was to fling open the door and walk swiftly across the place where the men were lying about, as soon as he heard the skipper and Allstone go into the old chapel.

To his dismay, however, the man came straight to the door where Hilary was standing, raised the latch, opened it, and as the young officer drew back the heavy door struck him in the chest, but before he could recover from his surprise there was a sharp bang, with the accompanying rattle of the great latch, and as a dull echo came from below, the key was turned, and the lock shot into the stone cheek.

"Curse him and his fine airs!" Hilary heard the skipper say, hoarsely. "I shall have the young villain bringing the cutter's crew down upon us. I wish his neck was broken."

"Put him in the top room, then," said Allstone; "he'll break his neck trying to get away."

"Not he," said the skipper; "those middies can climb like cats. He's safe enough now, I suppose."

"Oh, yes," said Allstone, "I went and had a look at the window-bars to-night."

"Safe enough, yes," muttered Hilary, as he heard the departing steps; "they've locked me up safe enough. Was anything ever so vexatious?"

As he heard the clang of a door he placed his eye to the open keyhole, and through it he could see into the great kitchen, which now seemed to be lit only by the glow from a great wood fire, for the shadows danced on the wall, and when now and then the fire fell together and the flames danced up more brightly he could make out quite definitely a pair of the shadows, which were evidently those of a couple of half-recumbent men.

Just on one side too he could plainly see part of a man's leg. No shadow this, but a limb of some one who had thrown himself upon the floor; and Hilary rightly judged that the crew of the lugger were snatching an hour or two's repose previous to being called up by their leader.

The laughing and talking were silenced, and he could hear nothing but the occasional crackle of burning wood.

He raised the latch softly, pressing against the door the while; but it was fast locked, and by running his fingers down the side he could feel where the great square bolt of the lock ran into the stone wall. Escape that way was cut off, and ready to stamp with mortification Hilary stood upon the step at the top of the flight asking himself what he had best do.

There was no chance of getting away that night, so he felt that he must give it up, and the sinking despondency that came over him was for the moment terrible; but reaction soon sets in when one is on the buoyant side of twenty, and he recalled the fact that, though he might be obliged to return to his prison, he had found a way of exit; and if he went back, lowered the stone and dusted it over, he might come down another time, night or morning, and find the door open; in fact, he might keep on trying till he did.

It was very disheartening, but there seemed to be nothing else to be done, and he stood there thinking of how nearly he had escaped, but at the same he was obliged to own how happily he had avoided detection.

Then the remembrance of the well came back, and the cold perspiration broke out on his hands and brow at the bare recollection.

"Bah! what's the good of thinking about that?" he said to himself; and he was about to descend when he fancied he heard a faint rustling noise on the other side of the door, and then whispers.

The sounds ceased directly, and he bent down so that his eye was to the keyhole, when, to his surprise, he found that something was between him and the light.

Just then the whispers began again, and placing his ear this time to the great hole, he plainly heard two men speaking:

"I think you can do it without a light," said one.

"Ay, easy enough. You stop, and if you hear Allstone coming, give just one pipe, and I'll be up directly."

"All right. Get the hollands this time. Gently with that key."

Hilary would have run down, but he was afraid of detection, for just then there was the harsh grating noise of a key being thrust into the big lock, the bolt creaked back, the latch was raised, and the door softly pushed open as he pressed himself back against the wall, and remained there in the darkness, almost afraid to breathe.

It was intensely dark now, even when the door was opened, and as Hilary stood there behind the door he heard some one descend, while another stood at the top, breathing hard, and evidently listening to the rustling of the man down below.

Several minutes passed, and then the man at the top of the stairs muttered impatiently, and went down two or three of the degrees.

"Pst! Dick!" he whispered.

"Ay, ay."

"Be quick, man!"

"I can't find 'em," was the whispered reply. "They've packed the cases atop of 'em."

"Jolterhead!" muttered the other impatiently. "Why, they're just at the back."

"Come down," was whispered from below, and to Hilary's great delight he heard the man on the watch go softly below.

Now was Hilary's opportunity, and gliding softly from behind the door, he stepped out into the stone passage, and saw before him a faint light shining under the bottom of the door which the men had evidently closed when they left the kitchen.

He might have locked the two fellows in the vault, but that would have caused needless noise, and perhaps hindered his escape, so without further hesitation he stepped lightly along the passage, and softly pressed against the farther door.

It yielded easily, and he found himself looking into a great low-ceiled kitchen, whose ancient black rafters shone in the glow from a huge fireplace, upon whose hearth the remains of a large fire flickered and sent forth a few dying sparks.

Around it, and stretched in a variety of postures upon the floor, were some eight or ten men fast asleep; and what took Hilary's attention more than all was another door at the far corner, which it was now his aim to reach.

But to do this he would have to step over two of the men, and there was the possibility that, though they all seemed to be asleep, one or more might be awake and watchful.

It needed no little firmness to make the attempt; but if he were to escape, he knew it must be done.

"If they wake they will only take me back," thought Hilary, "so I may as well try."

He hesitated no longer, but stepping on tiptoe he passed on between two of the sleeping men, and was in the act of stepping over another, when a gruff voice from a corner exclaimed:—

"Why don't you lie down. You'll be glad of a nap by and by."

Hilary felt as if his heart had leaped to his mouth, and he thought he was discovered; but the words were spoken in a sleepy tone, and from the sound that followed it was evident that the man had turned over.

Hilary waited a few minutes, and once more resumed his progress towards the door, making every movement with the greatest caution; and he was already half way to his goal when he heard the grating of the lock at the top of the dark cellar stairs, and a low whispering told him that the men were about to return.

There was not a moment to lose, and stepping lightly on, he reached the door, raised the great wooden latch by which it was secured, and passed in, while just as he closed it he saw through the opening the two men who had been below enter the place.

The fire was throwing out but little light now, but he could see that they carried what looked like a little spirit keg, which they set down by the fire. The closing door shut out the rest.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

MANHOOD VERSUS SELFISHNESS—AND MANHOOD WINS.

Hilary breathed more freely as he silently let fall the latch, and then waited for a few minutes to recover his equanimity before making a farther trial. He had succeeded so far, and he felt that if he were patient and cautious he might regain his freedom; but he thought it better to let the men begin upon the spirits that two of the party had evidently been down to obtain.

But as far as he could make out they did not seem to be in any hurry to awaken their companions, and at last after waiting for some minutes for the burst of conversation that he hoped would make his movements pass unheard, he began to feel his way cautiously about, expecting a door of exit to meet his hand, or else to find that he was in some large passage. To his great disappointment he found that he could touch the wall on either side after making a step; and a very little investigation showed him farther that he was only in a stone-paved place that had probably been a dairy, for on one side there was an iron grating of very massive bars let into the stone, and there were stone benches along one side.

In fact, if the key of the door had been turned, he would have only exchanged one prison for another.

His heart sank within him as he realised his position, and found that there was only one door, upon which he raised his hand ready to return into the great kitchen; but a low creaking noise, suggestive of some one treading on a board, arrested him, and he stood there listening.

After a few minutes he grew more confident, and opening the door slightly he once more gazed upon the Rembrandtish scene, all light and shadow, with the men stretched about asleep, and two more seated upon a bench busily trickling spirit from the little keg into a small horn, from which they drank in turn with a sigh of satisfaction.

The others slept on, one now and then making an uneasy movement; but it was evident that there were to be no more partners in the coming drinking bout, and Hilary began to calculate how long it would be before they would have drunk enough to make them sleepy and ready to join their companions upon the floor.

He had no means of judging, but he concluded that it must now be nearly three o'clock, and in an hour's time it would be getting light. And yet, near as he was to safety, it seemed that he was to be disappointed, and to wait there till somebody or other came to the place and gave the alarm.

By keeping the door just ajar he was able to watch the two men; but a couple of hours had passed before he saw them stretch themselves upon the floor, after carefully hiding away the little keg, and at last Hilary felt that he might venture to cross the great kitchen again and endeavour to find another outlet.

The day had broken some time before, and the cold grey light that shone in through the iron grating showed him that he was correct in his surmises, and that the place had been a dairy; but the window was too strong for him to break through, and there was nothing for it but to cross the party of sleeping men.

He was some little time before he could make up his mind to the effort, and when he did, and began to slowly open the door, he let it glide to once more, for one of the men suddenly uttered a loud yawn, jumped up and stretched himself, before giving a companion a kick in the side.

It took several kicks to induce the man to get up; but when he did it was in a morose, angry disposition, and he revenged himself by going round and kicking every other man till the whole party was awake, and Hilary saw his chances fade away, while, to add to his misery, the next act of the party was to go to a great cupboard, from which a ham and a couple of loaves were produced, upon which they made a vigorous onslaught, each man opening his jack-knife and hewing off a lump of bread and cutting a great slice of ham.

They ate so heartily that a feeling of hunger was excited in the prisoner's breast; but this soon passed off, and he sat there wondering how long it would be before one or other of the party would come into the old dairy, though, upon looking round, there seemed to be nothing to bring them there.

Hour after hour glided by. The meal had long been ended, and the men were gone outside, but never all at once; always one stayed, sometimes two. Then Martin kept bustling in and giving orders. Once too Sir Harry came in and entered into a discussion with the skipper, apparently, from the few words that Hilary could catch, concerning the advisability of making some excursion; but there seemed to be some hindrance in the way, and Hilary's heart beat high with hope as he heard the word "cutter" spoken twice.

It was not much to hear; but it was good news for Hilary, who concluded that the vessel must still be lying off the coast, and in the smugglers' way.

At last, however, the conversation ended, and Hilary saw Sir Henry leave the place just as Allstone came in.

This made the young man's heart beat again, for either the fellow had come to announce his evasion, or else he was about to take food into the old chapel, when, of course, he would find his prisoner gone.

But no: he spoke quite calmly to the skipper, and after a short consultation they went out.

Just then the noise of wheels and the trampling of horses could be heard outside, facts which pointed to the leaving of one or more of the party.

Two of the men were still hanging about, but at last they also went, and Allstone came in and seated himself thoughtfully upon a bench.

By-and-by, though, he cut himself some food, hesitated, and proceeded to cut some more, which he placed in a coarse delf plate.

"My breakfast!" said Hilary to himself, and he wondered how soon the man would go to the chapel to present it to his prisoner.

This would be the signal for Hilary's escape, and, anxiously waiting till the man had finished his own repast, the young officer made up his mind to run to the window, climb out, and then trust to his heels for his liberty.

The time seemed as if it would never come, but at last the surly-looking fellow, having apparently satisfied his own hunger, rose up slowly, and, taking the plate, went slowly out of the door, rattling his keys the while.

He had hardly disappeared before Hilary glided out of his hiding-place, darted to the table and seized the remains of the bread, hesitated as to whether he should take the ham bone, but leaving it, climbed on to the window-sill, forced the frame open, and dropped outside amongst the nettles that grew beneath.

"Free!" he exclaimed. "Now which way?"

He had not much choice in the first place, for he remembered that there would be the moat to cross, and the probabilities were that there would only be one path. After that he saw his way clearly, and that was towards the sun, for he knew that if he made straight for that point he would be going by midday direct for the sea.

That was his goal. Once he could reach the cliffs and get down on the shore, he meant to seize the first boat he met with, get afloat, and trust to fortune for the rest.

For the first few moments Hilary kept close to the house, but, considering that a bold effort was the only one likely to succeed, he walked out straight to the moat, hesitated a moment as to whether he should leap in and swim or wade across, and ended by walking sharply along its brink till it turned off at right angles, and he now saw a sandstone bridge facing the entry of a large, old-fashioned hall, that had evidently gone to ruin, and which, from the outside aspect, seemed to be uninhabited, for a more thorough aspect of desolation it was impossible to imagine.

There was not a soul in view as he walked sharply away till he reached the crumbling bridge, which he crossed, and then, finding that the road led along by the far side of the moat, he did not pause to think, but, trusting to the high hedge by which it was bordered and the wilderness of trees that had sprung up between the road and the moat to conceal him, he went right on, his way being a little east of south.

"I wonder whether old Allstone has given the alarm?" he said half aloud, as he placed the cutlass in his belt. "They'll have to run fast to catch me now. Hallo! what's that?"

That was a piercing scream, followed by loud cries of "Help! Papa— help!"

Hilary had made his escape, and he had nothing to do now but make straight for the sea; but that cry stopped him on the instant. It evidently came from the moat behind him, and sounded to him as if some one had fallen in; he thought as he ran, for without a moment's hesitation he forced his way through the old hedge, dashed in amongst the clumps of hawthorn and hornbeam scrub, making straight for the moat, where he saw a sight which caused him to increase his pace and make a running dash right to the water, where the next moment he was swimming towards where Adela Norland was struggling feebly for her life.

Hilary saw how it was in a moment. The poor girl had apparently been tempted into trying to get at some of the yellow lilies and silvery water crowfoot which were growing abundantly in the centre of the wide moat, and to effect this she had entered a clumsy old boat that was evidently utilised for clearing out the weeds and growth from the stagnant water. That it was a boat was sufficient for her, and she had pushed out into the middle, not heeding that the craft was so rotten and fragile that just as she was out in one of the deepest parts it began to fill rapidly, and sank beneath her weight, leaving her struggling in the water.

Hilary had some distance to swim, for here, in the front of the house, the moat was double the width of the part by his prison window, and to his horror he saw the beating hands subside beneath the water while he was many yards away. But he was a good swimmer, and redoubling his exertions he forced his way onward, as he saw Sir Henry, Allstone, and three more men come running out to the moat; but only one of them, Sir Henry himself, attempted to save the drowning girl's life.

Long before Sir Henry could reach Adela, Hilary was at the spot where he had seen her go down, and, rising for a moment and making a dive, he went down, rose, dived again, and once again before he caught hold of the poor girl's dress, and then swam with her for the shore.

The moat was deep right up to the grassy edge; and Hilary was in the act of placing Adela in the hands held down to catch her when a fresh cry for help assailed his ears, and, turning, it was to see that Sir Henry was a dozen yards away, swimming apparently, but making no progress.

Hilary suspected the cause as he turned and swam to his old friend's help. For Sir Henry was heavily dressed, and, in addition, booted and spurred. The consequence had been that his heavy boots, with their appendages, were entangled in the long tough stems of the lilies, and his position was perilous in the extreme.

For a moment Hilary wondered how he could help his old friend, and as he wondered the thought came.

Swimming with one hand, he drew the cutlass from his belt, and telling Sir Henry to be cool, he swam up to him, thrust the cutlass down beneath the water, and after two or three attempts succeeded in dividing the tough stalks, ending by helping the nearly exhausted swimmer towards the shore.

The men on the shore, and that little figure kneeling by them with clasped hands, seemed to be growing dim and indistinct, close as they were, and as if they were receding. His arms felt like lead, and he could hardly make his strokes, while somehow Sir Henry now embarrassed him by being so close that he could not take hold, as it were, of the water. But still he strove on, with the foam bubbling at his lips, then over his lips, then to his dim eyes; and then he felt something strike against his hand, and he clutched at a pole held out by Allstone, when Sir Henry and he were dragged out, to lie panting for the next minute or two upon the bank.

"You're not dead, are you, Sir Henry?" said Allstone gruffly; and Hilary could not help, even then, feeling annoyed as he raised himself upon one elbow, but only to give place to other thoughts as he saw Adela kneeling there in speechless agony, holding her father's head in her lap.

Poor girl! She was white as ashes, and her beautiful hair hung long and dishevelled about her shoulders; but just then she seemed to have no thought of self, her whole feeling being concentrated upon the pale, motionless face before her, from which the life seemed to have passed away.

But after a time Sir Henry shuddered and opened his eyes, smiling affectionately in his child's face, and, as he realised their position, he said something to her in a low voice.

They had all been so long occupied in watching for the recovery of Sir Henry that Hilary had had time to regain breath and some of his strength, and now the knowledge of his own position came back to him. He had escaped from the net, and voluntarily returned to it to save Adela. Her he had saved, and also her father. Now it was time to save himself, and, jumping up, he gave a hasty glance round.

"No, you don't!" said a hoarse voice. "You're my prisoner." And Allstone seized him by his wet jacket.

Hilary was weak yet with his struggle in the water, but the dread of being once more a prisoner gave him strength, and, striking up the arm, he made for the bridge to cross once more for liberty; but a couple of men coming from the other direction, having just heard the alarm, cut off his retreat, and, exhausted as he was, he did not hesitate for an instant, but plunged once more into the moat.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A RACE FOR LIBERTY.

It was a question of time.

Could Hilary get across the moat before the men who ran off to stop him reached the bridge, crossed, then ran along the other side?

Appearances were against Hilary, and he saw that they were. In fact, so black was the lookout, that he half thought of finding a shallow place and standing there amongst the waterlilies, laughing at his pursuers.

"Only it would look so stupid," he muttered; "and I should be obliged to come out at last."

He was striking out pretty well, and, but for the fact that his late exertions had told upon him, he felt that he would have got across with ease.

"It's too bad, though," he thought; "and Sir Henry isn't half the fellow I thought him if he allows me to be taken. Hullo! Hurrah! Down they go!" he exclaimed, as, straining his eyes towards the bridge, he saw one man trip and fall out of sight behind the low wall and another go over him.

This reanimated him; and, taking long, slow strokes, he was soon pretty close to the farther side, with the determination in him strong to get away.

Fortunately he had retained the cutlass; and as he reached the bank and scrambled out, dripping like some huge Newfoundland dog, Allstone came panting up and seized him by the collar.

"Not this time, my lad," he growled, showing his teeth. "You thought you had done it, didn't you?"

"Let go!" panted Hilary, as the water streamed down and made a pool.

"Yes, when I've got you in a safer place," was the reply.

"Here, come along, you two. No; one of you fetch a rope."

This was to his followers, one of whom was limping, and the other bleeding from a cut in the face caused by his fall.

"Will you let go?" cried Hilary hoarsely, but fast regaining his breath.

"There, it's no use for you to struggle, my boy," said Allstone. "Murder! Here! Help!"

Hilary had glanced round and taken in his position. Sir Henry was standing holding Adela, who had hidden her face in his breast so as not to see the struggle, while her father made no attempt to interfere. The two men were close up; and as Allstone held him firmly he felt that he was about to be dragged back to his prison like some drowned rat, and he vowed that he would not give up if he died for it.

For Hilary's blood was now up, and, wrenching himself round, he got hold of the hilt of the cutlass, where it stuck in his belt, dragged it out, and in doing so struck his captor beneath the chin with the pommel.

So sharp was the blow that Allstone quitted his hold, uttering hoarse cries, and staggered back two or three yards, while Hilary drove him farther by making at him as if about to deliver point.

The two injured men, in answer to their leader's call, now made an attempt to seize Hilary; but their effort was a faint-hearted one, for on the young officer making a dash at them they gave way, and, waving his hand to Sir Henry, he dashed across the road and along a winding lane.

"A set of cowards!" he muttered. "The cutlass would hardly cut butter, and it would want a hammer to drive in its point. Yes; you may shout. You don't suppose I am coming back?"

He looked over his shoulder, and saw that Allstone and four men were now after him, and that, if he meant to get away, he must use his last remaining strength, for, clumsily as they ran, he was so tired with his recent exertions that they were diminishing the distance fast.

"I wonder how many pounds of water I've got to carry?" muttered Hilary, as he ran on, with the moisture still streaming from him, and making a most unpleasant noise in his boots. "There's one good thing, though," he said: "it keeps on growing less."

It was a lonely, winding lane, with the trees meeting overhead, and the sunshine raining down, as it were, in silvery streams upon the dappled earth. On either side were ancient hazel clumps, with here and there a majestic moss-covered oak or beech. It was, in fact, such a place as a lover of nature would have been loath to quit; and even in his time of need Hilary was not insensible to the beauties of the spot, but he could not help feeling that the rutty roadway was atrocious.

"Well, it's as bad for them as it is for me," he said to himself as he ran at a steady trot—now in full view, now hidden from his pursuers by the windings of the lane.

"I wonder whether this is the lane they brought me along with that jackass," he thought; and then, as his clothes grew lighter and stuck less closely to his limbs, he began to wonder how long they would take to dry.

"Well, that don't matter," he thought; "I shan't be allowed to sit down and rest just yet."

He glanced back; and saw that his pursuers were out of sight, and he was just about to take advantage of the fact and spring over into the wood when they came in view again and uttered a shout.

"Anyone would think I was a hare and they were trying to run me down," he said. "Get out, you yelping curs!"

Hare-like, indeed; for he was looking back and thinking of his pursuers so intently that he did not cast his eyes ahead beyond his steps till another shout roused him, and he saw that his pursuers were calling to a party of men coming with a cart from the other direction, and who had started forward to join in the pursuit.

His idea a minute before had been to wait his opportunity, leap into the wood, and hide while the men went by. Now he saw that his only course was to dash in amongst the forest trees in full sight of his pursuers, and trust to his speed or the density of the way, for his retreat was cut off, and he had no other chance.

There was no time for hesitation, so, catching at a pendent bough, he swung himself up the sandy bank, but slipped and fell back, losing part of the ground he had won by his greater speed; but his next effort was more successful, and pressing in amongst the low undergrowth he forced his way along.

Hilary's desires went far faster than his legs, for it was very hard work here. The low birch scrub and hazel, interspersed with sapling ash, mingled and were interlaced with the shade-loving woodland bramble, whose spiny strands wove the branches together, clung to his clothes and checked him continually. Well might they be called briars, for it was as if a hundred hands were snatching at him. But, keeping his hands well before his face, he struggled on, with the wood growing denser each moment and his pursuers close behind.

"Ah, if I only had half a dozen of our lads here," he panted, "how I would turn upon these cowardly rascals! Twelve against one, and hunting him down. Never mind," he cried, making a vicious cut with his weapon at a bramble that met him breast high, "I'd rather be the hunted stag than one of a pack of miserable hounds."

At another time the wild untrodden wood must have filled him with delight, so full was it of beauty. The earth was carpeted with brilliant moss, which ran over the old stumps and climbed the boles of the great forest-trees; woodland flowers were crushed beneath his feet, and the sunlight danced amongst the leaves. Every here and there a frightened rabbit rushed away, while the long forest arcades echoed with the cries of the startled birds.

But Hilary was too hot and excited to notice any of the beauties around. His drenching was forgotten, and he was beginning to pant with heat, while the shouts of his pursuers made his eyes flash with rage.

He was gaining somewhat, and increasing the distance between them, but not greatly; for so far the men, part of whom were those returning from the cliffs, were still pretty close, and he could hear the crashing of the boughs and twigs as they came on; but he had managed to get out of their sight, and coming now upon a more open part where the trees were bigger, he ran with all his might, dashed into another denser patch, and then feeling that to keep on running was only to grow more and more exhausted, and to make his capture a matter of time, he began to think whether he could not make his brains help his legs.

There was no time to lose, for the smugglers had now entered the more open part, and were, as their shouts indicated, coming on fast. What he was to do must be done quickly.

Hilary crept on cautiously, making as little noise as possible, dividing the branches tenderly so as to leave no broken twigs, and finding that the ground which he had now reached rapidly descended into a deep ravine or gully—one of the many that drain that part of the country—in a few minutes he was down between the fern-hung sandstone rocks.

There was a tiny stream at the bottom, now reduced to a mere thread that joined together a few pools, but the well-washed banks high above his head showed that in rainy times it must be a rushing torrent.

Here was his road, then; for he argued that this stream, even if it did not lead right to the sea, would be sure to run into one that did; and besides, as he needed not rapid travelling, but the cautious creeping that should keep him concealed from his enemies, he could not have met with a better way.

Leaping down, then, from stone to stone till he reached the bottom, he dived under a number of overhanging brambles, and went slowly on.

His pursuers' cries had for the moment ceased, and his spirits rose as he began to feel that they had gone upon the wrong scent; when suddenly, as he was forcing his way cautiously along, he heard a loud halloo just below him, and not fifty yards away.

To his horror, as he stopped short, there came an answering shout from above, and another from higher up the gully.

"Send a couple down into the river bed!" shouted the voice below. "I'll stop him here."

Hilary ground his teeth, for cunning as he thought himself, it was evident that the same idea had occurred to his pursuers.

What was he to do? If he climbed up the banks he was certain to be seen; if he kept on along the bed of the stream he would walk right into an enemy's arms; and the same if he worked upward.

He stopped, thinking, but no fresh idea struck him; and setting his teeth and drawing a long breath, he stepped on into a more open place.

"I'll make a fight for it," he said sharply, "for I don't mean to be taken back."

Just then he caught sight of a hollow that had evidently been tunnelled out of the rocks by centuries of floods. There was a perfect curtain of thin stranded holly, ivy, and bramble hanging before it, and creeping cautiously forward he parted the hanging strands, passed in, and they fell back in place, almost shutting out the light of day.

The hollow did not even approach the dimensions of a cave, but was the merest hollowing out of the soft sand rock; still, it was sufficient to conceal him from his pursuers, and, cutlass in hand, he crouched down, holding open one little place in the green curtain and listening for the next hint of the coming of his pursuers. A dead silence ensued, during which he could feel the heavy throb, throb of his heart and the hard labouring of his breath, for his exertions had been tremendous. But still no sound reached his ears; not a shout was heard, and he began to grow hopeful.

Five minutes must have passed, and he had recovered his breath. From out of the tiny opening he had left he saw a robin flit down and perch upon a twig. Then came a blackbird to investigate the state of the commissariat department in the gully, turning busily over the leaves; and so calmly did the bird work that Hilary felt still more hopeful, for he knew that no one could be near.

Vain hope! All at once the bird uttered its sharp alarm note and flew like a streak of black velvet up into the dense growth above, but still there was not a sound to be heard.

Hilary's heart began to beat again, for the excitement was intense. Then there came a faint rustle, and another. Then silence again, and he felt that the men must have given up the chase.

Just then there was another faint rustle, and through the screen of leaves Hilary saw the head and then the shoulders of a strongly-built man appear, whose eyes were diligently searching every inch of ground till he came nearer, and then, as his gaze lighted on the screen of leaves Hilary saw a look of intelligence come upon his stolid features, and stepping forward, he was about to drag the leafage aside, when there came a loud shout from below—

"Ahoy! this way. Here he is!"

The man made a rush down the ravine, and the young officer's heart felt as if released from some tremendous pressure, for he had nerved himself for a tremendous struggle, and the danger had passed.

A minute later there was a sudden outburst of voices and a roar of laughter, after which Hilary fancied he could hear Allstone shouting and angrily abusing the men. Then once more came silence, and he lay there and waited.

He half expected to see the men come back, but an hour passed and there was not a sound save that of the birds in the distance; and at last, after fighting down the intense desire to be up and doing till he could master himself no longer, Hilary parted the leaves and stepped out into the gully to continue his course downwards.

He stopped in a stooping position to listen, for he fancied he had heard a rustle.

"Rabbit," he muttered, directly after; and as he did so a tremendous weight fell upon his back, throwing him forward upon his face, where, as he struggled round and tried to get up, it was to find that the great sturdy fellow he had before seen was sitting upon his chest.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

BACK IN BONDS.

"That's the way I do with the rabbuds, shipmet," said the man laughing.

"You dog! you scoundrel!" panted Hilary, continuing his ineffectual struggle.

"Better be still, boy," said the man coolly. "You'll only hurt yourself."

As he spoke he wrested the cutlass from the young man's hand, after which he coolly took out a tobacco-bag and helped himself to a quid.

Hilary felt his helplessness, and after another furious effort, during which he partly raised his captor from his position of 'vantage, he lay still and looked in the man's face.

"Look here!" he said; "what'll you take to let me go?"

The man looked at him in an amused fashion, and then laughed.

"Do you hear?" cried Hilary. "Come, get off me; you hurt my chest."

"Yes. I hear," said the man coolly.

"Then why don't you answer? Quick, before the others come! What will you take to let me go?"

"What'll you take, youngster, to join us?"

"What do you take me for?" cried Hilary. "How dare you ask me such a question?"

"Just by the same law that you ask me," said the man coolly. "Do you think everybody is to be bought and sold?"

"But look here," cried Hilary. "I have been shut up there, and I want to get away; I must get away."

"To bring the crew of the cutter to rout us up yonder, eh!" said the man, laughing. "Now, come, I suppose you would call yourself a young gentleman; so speak the truth. If I let you go, will you lead the cutter off on a false scent, or will you show the captain the way to our place?"

Hilary remained silent.

"Why don't you speak, youngster? Which would you do?"

"My duty," said Hilary sturdily.

"And that is, of course, to point us out," said the man, smiling. "Well youngster, I don't like you a bit the worse for speaking out like a man. I've got my duty to do as well, and here goes."

He blew a shrill chirruping whistle twice over, and it was answered from a distance; while before many minutes had elapsed there was the sound of breaking twigs, voices talking hurriedly, and directly after, looking black and angry, Allstone came up with half-a-dozen men.

Allstone's countenance changed into a look of malignant pleasure as soon as he saw Hilary lying amidst the bushes.

"You've got him, then?" he cried.

"Oh, yes," said Hilary's captor coolly. "It only wanted time."

"I thought we should get him again!" shouted Allstone, grinning in the captive's face. "Here's that cutlass, too. He's a liar, this fellow. He said he had thrown it out of the window."

"So I did, idiot!" cried Hilary indignantly. "But I tied a string to it to pull it back when I wanted it."

The men burst out into a hearty laugh at the idea, as much as at someone calling Allstone, who had bullied them a good deal, an idiot.

The man glanced at him savagely, and Hilary read in his eye so much promise of a hard time that he determined to make one more effort for his liberty, and this he did.

"Who's got a bit o' cord?" said Allstone. "Oh, here, I have. Now then, up with him, and hold his hands behind his back."

Hilary's captor rose, and a couple of men caught him by the arms, jerked him up and held him, dragging back his arms, which Allstone came forward to bind; but seeing the young man helpless before him, he could not resist the temptation offered to him.

"I'm an idiot, am I?" he shouted. "How do you like that for an idiot's touch?"

He struck Hilary a brutal back-handed blow across the face as he spoke, and then went backwards into the gully with a crash. For, his hands being secured, the young officer felt no compunction, under the circumstances, in making use of his foot, and with it he gave the bully so tremendous a kick in the chest that he went down breathless; and, wrenching his arms free, Hilary made a dash for liberty, but his former captor seized him as he passed.

"No, my lad, it won't do," he exclaimed. "It was too much trouble to catch you, so we'll keep you now."

Allstone struggled up, but Hilary's captor interfered as he was about to strike at him with his doubled fist.

"No, no, Master Allstone," he said sharply, "I'm sure the skipper and Sir Henry wouldn't let you do that."

"You stand aside," roared Allstone. "Who told you to interfere?"

"No one," said the man coolly; "but I shall interfere, and if you touch that lad again it'll be through me."

"Do you hear this, lads?" cried Allstone. "He's breaking his oaths. Come on my side and we'll deal with him too."

"This young fellow was about right when he called you an idiot, Jemmy Allstone," said the man quietly.

"He's going to help him get away," cried Allstone, who was mad with passion.

"Yes, that's it, boys," said the man laughing, "that's why I caught him and kept him till you came up, and that's why I'm going to tie his arms. Here, give me the rope."

He snatched the cord from Allstone's hands, and turned to Hilary.

"Hold up your arms, my lad, and I won't hurt you. Come, it's of no use to try and run; we're too many for you. Never fight your ship when you know you are beaten; it's only waste of strength. Come, hold up."

Hilary felt that he had done all that was possible, and, won by his captor's frank, manly way, he held up his wrists, to have them so tightly and ingeniously tied that he was a prisoner indeed.

As they went back by a short cut through the wood, and one which brought them into a narrow lane, Allstone once found an opportunity to maliciously kick his prisoner, as if by accident; but Hilary's friend saw the act, and took care that he did not again approach too near; and, after what seemed a weary walk, the little party crossed the moat of the handsome old place. Hilary was led into the great kitchen, and then up-stairs, past flight after flight, to a room at the top with a strongly-bound door. Into this place he was thrust, and Allstone was about to leave him as he was; but the friendly smuggler stepped forward, and began to unfasten the bonds.

"Never mind that," cried Allstone; "let him stay bound."

The man paid no heed whatever, but undid the cord, set Hilary free, and then retired, the door being banged to, locked loudly, and secured by a heavy bar thrust clanging across.

The young officer stood staring at the door for a few minutes, and then stamped his foot upon the floor.

"Was ever fellow so unlucky!" he exclaimed. "Lipscombe might have found me out by this time; and when I do get out, I'm caught and brought back. But never mind; if they think I'm beaten they are wrong, for I'll get out, if only to show Sir Henry what a mean-spirited fellow he is."

He looked round his room, which was a bare old attic, with dormer windows and casements, from which, on flinging one open, he saw that he was far too high from the ground for a descent without a rope; but a second glance showed him that it would be possible to climb upon the roof, and when there he might perhaps manage to get somewhere else.

Just then he heard a window opened on the floor below, and, looking down, he saw Adela, evidently gazing towards the moat.

For a few moments he felt too indignant to speak, for he thought Sir Henry was behaving very ill to him; but a little reflection told him that his old companion was not to blame, and what she might even then be feeling very grateful to him for what he had done.

"Well, I'll give her a chance to show it," he thought; and, leaning out a little more he said lightly, "Well, Addy, are you any the worse for your dip?"

"Oh, Hil!" she exclaimed looking up, "are you there?"

"Yes, and locked up safely. I say, your people are behaving very badly to me."

"Oh, Hil," cried the girl with the tears in her eyes, "I am so sorry. I've been begging papa not to have you caught, and he says he could not help it."

"Then he ought to help it," replied Hilary warmly.

"But he says he's bound to keep faith with his friends; and that if you would only give your word not to escape and betray our hiding-place you might come and live with us; and oh, Hil dear, it would be like old times, and we could have such walks together. Do be a good boy, and promise what papa wishes! I should like you to come and be with us again, for I have no companion now."

Hilary looked down at the bright little face, and as the thoughts of how pleasantly the time would pass in her company came upon him, as compared with the miseries he had to endure, he felt sorely tempted to give his parole; he might do that, he argued.

"Do come, Hil," she said again, as if she were reading his hesitation. "Papa will be so pleased."

"And try his best to make me turn traitor," thought Hilary.

"No," he exclaimed, "I cannot do it, Addy; and I'm sure you would not wish me to break faith with those to whom I owe duty. I should like to come, but—ah, Sir Henry, you there?"

He started, for a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and turning, there stood Sir Henry, holding out his hand.

"I have come to thank you, my brave, true lad, for what you have done," he exclaimed warmly. "You saved my darling's life and then mine."

"And for which you had me hunted down," said Hilary bitterly.

"It was no act of mine, my boy," said Sir Henry sadly. "Why will you ignore the fact that I am not master of your position? Hilary, my dear boy, once more, will you join us?"

"No, Sir Henry; and even if I did you would only despise me."

"No, no. Nothing of the kind."

"Then I should despise myself," cried Hilary. "Once more, Sir Henry, I am a king's officer, and refuse your proposals."

"Then give me your parole not to escape."

"I give you my word of honour that I will escape as soon as I possibly can," said Hilary smiling. "So take my advice, and take Adela away. Save yourself, too, for if I find you here I shall be obliged to arrest you."

"Why, you foolish fellow," said Sir Henry smiling, "you are a prisoner, and you have found out that you cannot get away."

"Not so, Sir Henry. I found that I could not get away this first time; but you don't know me if you think I am going to sit down quietly here without an effort to escape."

"But it is impossible here, my good lad," said Sir Henry.

"So your people thought when you locked me up in that old chapel. I tell you, Sir Henry, I mean to get back to my ship."

"Then, for the safety of my child, and for my own safety, Hilary, you force me to show myself the stern officer of his majesty our rightful king, and I must see that you are kept fast. However, I will try to temper justice with some show of kindness, and I have had dry clothes brought up for your use till the others are right."

"Oh, they are pretty well right now," said Hilary carelessly.

"Then is it to be war, Hilary?" said Sir Henry with a sad smile.

"Yes, Sir Henry, war."

"We shall keep you very close and very fast, my boy."

"No, Sir Henry, you will not," cried Hilary cheerily, "for before many hours are over I mean to be free."

"It is a game of chess, then," said Sir Henry laughing.

"Yes, Sir Henry, and you have moved out your pawns and played your queen;" and he pointed below.

"I have," said Sir Henry smiling. "Now what do you mean to do?"

"Well, Sir Henry, seeing how I am shut up, suppose we say that I am castled."

"Very good," laughed Sir Henry going to the door and passing out.

"Very good or very bad," muttered Hilary, "I mean to be out before many days are passed; and when once I am free the smugglers may look out for squalls."



CHAPTER THIRTY.

HILARY TRIES AGAIN.

Soon after Sir Henry had gone, Hilary went to the window, but drew back directly.

"No," he said to himself, "if I go there I shall be tempted into giving my parole or joining the Pretender's party. Sir Henry seems to think he can win me over; so let us see."

He began to walk up and down his prison. Then it struck him that his clothes had pretty well grown dry again, and he went over in his mind the incidents of the day and the past night, thoughts which were interrupted by the coming of Allstone, who bore some bread and meat, and a mug of beer, while a man behind him dragged in a table and chair, and afterwards carried in a straw mattress and a pillow, Allstone looking grimly on.

The man went out, but Allstone still waited, and at last the man came back with a bundle of sheets and blankets, which he threw upon the bed.

"There," said Allstone, "that will do;" and seeing the man out, he darted a surly look at Hilary, and then followed and banged the door.

"Thank you," said Hilary, laughing. "Perhaps a ladder would have been a little more convenient; but what donkeys people are—give a sailor sheets and blankets, and shut him up in a garret, and think he won't escape! Ha! ha! ha!"

The sight of the food changed the current of Hilary's thoughts, and sitting down he made a very hearty meal, felt that his clothes had grown thoroughly dry, and then did what was not surprising under the circumstances, began to nod, and then went off fast asleep.

Before an hour had passed he awoke; but he was so drowsy that he threw himself upon the mattress, and falling asleep directly he did not awaken till early the next morning.

No escape that day, and as he had to make up his mind to this, he waited until Allstone came with a rough breakfast, when he made a peremptory demand for some means of washing and making himself more presentable.

"My orders be to bring you something to sleep on and your meals, that's all," growled the fellow. "I had no orders about washing tackle."

"Get out, you surly ill-conditioned ruffian," cried Hilary; and the fellow grinned.

"Here's something for you," he said, contemptuously jerking a letter on to the floor, which Hilary picked up.

"Look here, Master Allstone," he cried, shaking a finger at him; "one of these days I shall come here with a dozen or two of our brave boys, and if I don't have you flogged till you beg my pardon for all this, my name is not Hilary Leigh."

"Bah!" ejaculated the man; and he went away making as much noise as he could with the lock and bar so as to annoy his prisoner, but without success, for that individual was reading the letter he had received.

It was as follows:—

"My dear Hilary,—Fate has placed us on opposite sides, and though she has now thrown us together, I am compelled to hold aloof until you can say to me, 'Here is my parole of honour not to betray you or to escape!' or 'I see that I am on the side of a usurper, and abjure his service. From henceforth I am heart and soul with you.' When you can send me either of those messages, Hilary, Adela and I are ready to receive you with open arms. Till then we must be estranged; but all the same, my dear boy, accept my gratitude and love for your bravery in saving our lives.—Affectionately yours, Henry Norland."

"Then we shall have to remain estranged," said Hilary as he stood by the open window refolding the letter and thinking of his position.

"Hil! Hil!" came from below.

"Ahoy!" he answered. "Well, little lady?" and he leaned out.

"Isn't it a beautiful morning, Hil," said Adela, looking up. "Lovely."

"Why don't you come down and have a run with me in the woods?"

"For one reason, because I am locked up," said Hilary. "For another, because I have not made my hands and face acquainted with soap and water since I was aboard the cutter; my hair is full of bits of straw and dead leaves, and my clothes are soaked and shrunken, and muddied and torn. Altogether, I am not fit to be seen."

"Well, but Hil, dear, why don't you wash yourself?"

"Because your esteemed friends here do not allow me soap, water, and towel. I say, Addy, if I lower down a piece of string, will you send me a jug of water?"

"Same as I did the milk? Oh, of course!" said the girl laughing.

"All right," said Hilary; "get it, please."

He took out his knife, and without hesitation nicked and tore off the hem of one of his sheets, knotted two lengths together, lowered them down, and in turn drew up wash-hand jug, soap, brush and comb, and afterwards a basin, by having it tied up in a towel, and attaching the string to the knots.

Adela seemed to enjoy it all as fun, but she turned serious directly after as she told her old companion how grateful she felt to him for his bravery on the previous day, remarks which made Hilary feel uncomfortable and go away from the window with the excuse that he wanted to attend to his toilet.

For the next quarter of an hour Hilary was revelling in a good wash, with all the enjoyment of one who has been shut off from the use of soap and towel, with the result that after he had finished off with a brush, he felt more himself, and ready to stare his position more comfortably in the face.

He went to the window in spite of his resolutions not to be tempted, and looked down; but Adela had gone, so he had a good look round at the country.

Here he was facing due south, and before him, stretched in the bright sunshine, wave after wave as it were of hilly land, pretty well clothed with forest-trees. In the far distance there was a range of hills with a church and a windmill, both of which he recognised as having seen from the other side when upon the deck of the cutter, and this gave him a good idea of where he was, and how to shape his course when he made his escape.

That word set him thinking, and without more ado he proceeded to cut up the sheets, knot together some of the strips, and then to lay them up, sailor fashion, into a serviceable linen rope, for the sheets were coarse and strong.

This he did with his ears attent to the coming of footsteps, and a place ready in the bed to throw his work and cover it over should Allstone or Sir Henry be at hand. But he need not have troubled, for he completed about forty feet of good strong line from the pair of sheets, and coiled it up after securing the ends ready for use.

His escape now was simplicity itself he thought, and his toil ended and the shreds carefully swept up and blown from the window, he seated himself upon the sill, and enjoyed the warmth of the afternoon sunshine, planning out how he would slip down after securing one end of his cord to the window-frame.

Sir Henry would, he felt sure, provide for the safety of Adela and himself as soon as he found that the prisoner had escaped, for he felt that he could not bring peril upon them. There was no cause for fear, though, and he sat thinking of how grand it would be if he could escape the moment it was dark and get down to the shore and find the Kestrel.

That seemed hopeless, though, and too much to expect; for it was not likely that the cutter would be still cruising about and waiting for him. If she was, though, he knew how he could bring a boat's crew well-armed ashore, and that was by making a signal with a light in a particular way.

The sun was getting lower, and everything round the old place was still, nothing but a couple of fowls that were pecking about in what had once been a large garden between the old house and the moat, being visible.

It had once been a goodly residence, no doubt, but all now was ruin and desolation, except that the warm sunshine made even the neglect and weeds look picturesque. There were massive gables to right and left, and the old tiles were orange and grey with a thick coating of lichen. Just between his window and that of Adela there were the mouldering remains of a carved shield, with surmounting helmet and crest, and a decayed motto below, while to right and left the ivy had covered the front with its dark-green glossy leaves, among which the cable-like runners could be seen.

Anywhere, almost, along the front of the venerable place he could have climbed down by the help of the ivy; in his neighbourhood, however, it had been cleared away.

He wondered sometimes how it was that he had heard no more of Adela, and that everything about the place should be so still, and concluded that Sir Henry had forbidden her to hold counsel with him, and in this belief he sat on waiting until the sun went down in a flood of orange glory.

Just then he heard Allstone's heavy step upon the stairs, and coming away from the window Hilary threw himself upon his bed over the hidden rope.

But he need not have feared that it would be seen, for Allstone simply placed some food upon the table and went away directly after, locking the door.

The repast though rough and plain was substantial, and very welcome. Hilary felt somewhat agitated at the attempt he was about to make; but he knew that he needed fortifying with food, and he ate heartily, placing the remains of his meal in his pockets as a reserve for by-and-by.

As the sun went down the moon began to make its presence known; but it was early in its first quarter, and in the course of a couple of hours it too had set, leaving the sky to the stars, which twinkled brightly, doing little, though, to dispel the darkness.

In fact, by about nine, as he guessed it to be, the night was as suitable as possible for such an enterprise as his, and after listening to some distant sounds of talking in the back of the house, Hilary proceeded with beating heart to take out and unroll his light coil of rope.

By means of a little management he took one of the leaded panes from the bottom of the casement so as to allow the rope to be securely tied round the stout oak centrepiece of the window, and then, after watching attentively for a few minutes, he lowered down the other end until the full extent was reached, and as nearly as he could judge it touched the ground.

Even if it did not, there was nothing to fear, for at the utmost he would have had but a few feet to drop, and after a few moments' hesitancy he passed one leg out of the window, took a good grip of the rope, climbed right out, twisted his legs round in turn, and directly after, while swinging gently, he let himself down foot by foot.

It was nothing to him. His sailor life made a descent by a rope one of the merest trifles.

Down lower and lower, past Adela's window, and then coming into sight of a broad casement where a light was burning.

The upper floors of the old building projected beyond the lower, so that he had not been aware of this lighted room, and as he hung there turning slowly round and round he could plainly see Sir Henry in a comfortably-furnished place, seated at a table writing, while Adela was gazing up into his face as she sat upon a low stool at his feet.

For a few moments Hilary hung there motionless, feeling that if Sir Henry raised his eyes, as he was sure to do at the slightest sound, he could not help seeing him gently spinning round and round.

Recovering himself though, directly, he let himself slide, and reached the ground, but made so much noise that he heard Sir Henry speak, and he had hardly time to dart aside, drawing with him the white rope, and crouch down close to the house, before the window was opened, and he knew that some one was looking out.

"No, papa," said a well-known voice, "I can see nothing."

"Look again," said Sir Henry. "Stop; I'll come."

There was the noise of a moving chair, and then Hilary felt that Sir Henry was looking out of the window, and wondered whether he was seen.

He hardly dared to breathe, and it seemed like an hour before he heard a sigh, and Sir Henry said, softly—

"What a lovely night, my child!"

Then there was the sound of the casement being closed, steps faintly heard across the room, and, gliding from his place of concealment, Hilary made for the bridge, crossed it, and then darted amongst the bushes beside the narrow lane, for there was a buzz of voices behind him, and from the other side of the house he could see the light of a lantern, and then came the tramp of a horse and the sound of wheels.



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

SIGNALLING THE KESTREL.

Hilary knew that if he wished to escape he must achieve it with his brain perhaps as much as his heels. He could pretty well tell which way to go, but his knowledge of the country was very small, and great care was necessary. It was evident that there was a party leaving the old house, and most probably they were going to be present at some landing of goods upon the shore, whence the cart would bring the lading of some lugger back. If he went on now, it would be with this party always ready to overtake him at any moment, for he did not know the road. If, on the other hand, he kept hidden until the cart had gone by, their lantern would be a guide to him, and he could follow silently till he reached the cliffs. After that he must be guided by circumstances.

It was a wise idea, and lying perdu for a few minutes, he found that a cart passed him slowly, attended by six men, one of whom bore the lantern. They were all chatting and laughing, and so intent upon their business in hand that Hilary was able to follow them at a moderate distance, the lantern acting as his guide.

He soon found that fortune had favoured him, for without their guidance the chances were that he would have wandered off into one of the rugged lanes through the woods, if he had not lost the track entirely, for it was hardly worthy of the name of road.

He was going cautiously along, keeping the lantern well in sight, when, all at once, a faint glow appeared just in front; and he only stopped short just in time to avoid blundering over one of the party who had hung back to refill and light his pipe with a piece of touchwood, which he was now blowing up into a brisk glow before applying it to the bowl.

Hilary stopped as if struck by lightning, and held his breath, so close was he to the man, who, fortunately, was too much occupied with the task he had in hand to notice the young officer's proximity; and, after getting his pipe well alight, he started off after his companions.

This adventure made Hilary, if possible, more cautious, and for the next two hours he kept at a greater distance, wondering the while how much farther it was, when all at once he noticed that the lantern had become stationary. Directly after another light approached, and then a broad glare shone out, evidently from an open door. Then there was a good deal of talking and the rattle of a cart; then of another; and Hilary, finding that he could progress no farther by the track, struck off amongst the bushes and ferns on his left, finding now that the trees were left behind; and as the next minute he found even the bushes had given place to heather and turf, he concluded that he must be nearing the sea.

It had grown so dark that he had to proceed with caution or he would have tripped over some patch of furze or fern.

But he escaped pretty well; and seeing that the lanterns were once more in motion, he determined to proceed, as well as he could, parallel with the party, watch their proceedings, and learn all he could for future service if he succeeded in getting away.

Once he thought that he had better devote himself to his escape; but he could do no more until daybreak, and if he could see how the smugglers landed their cargoes such knowledge would be invaluable.

Going cautiously on, then, he must have proceeded for a couple of hundred yards when he found that the bearers of the lanterns had stopped, and there was a low buzz of talking, and someone seemed to be giving orders.

Then the noise ceased, and he fancied he could hear footsteps going away, while the lanterns burned close together, apparently on the ground.

He was too far-off still, he thought, and in his eager curiosity he bent down and took a few steps forward, felt one foot give way, threw himself back, and lay upon the turf, wet with a cold, chilling perspiration, and clutching the short turf with his fingers driven in as far as he could.

As he lay there trembling he heard a familiar sound from far below, and as his vision cleared and he grew calmer he could just make out a faint line of light where the waves were breaking amongst the stones, for he had been within an inch of a terrible death. The little patch of turf upon which he had trod grew right on the verge of the cliff, and but for his spasmodic effort to throw himself back as the earth gave way, he must have pitched headlong on to the rocks a couple of hundred feet below.

"What an escape!" he muttered; and then, after a calm feeling of thankfulness had pervaded him for a time, he lay there enjoying the soft salt breeze that blew gently upon his cheeks, and listening with delight to the murmurous plash of the waves.

As he gazed out to sea, where all was exceedingly dark, his heart gave a great leap, for not a couple of miles away, as he judged, a vessel was lying, and there was something in the position of the lights that made him feel certain it was the Kestrel.

He would not believe it at first, but told himself it was his fancy—the suggestion of that which he fondly wished; but as he shaded his eyes and watched he became more and more certain that it was his ship, and in his elation it was all he could do not to utter a joyous shout by way of a hail.

He checked himself, however, in the mad idea, and lay thinking. There was the old Kestrel, and the idea of getting back to his stuffy quarters and the ill-temper of Lieutenant Lipscombe seemed delightful; but he knew that the greatest caution was needed, or he would fail in his attempt.

Then, again, he thought it impossible that it could be the Kestrel, for the smugglers would never have the hardihood to run a cargo just under the very nose of a king's ship; but directly afterwards he was obliged to own that it was by these very acts of daring that they were able to carry on with such success; and the more he gazed out at those lights, the more certain he felt that they belonged to his vessel.

"Yes," he thought, "it's the old lass sure enough, and the lads will be as glad as can be to see me back. I know they will. Oh, if I could only signal to them and bring a boat's crew ashore."

He lay thinking, and then, with beating heart, began to crawl cautiously along close to the edge of the cliff till he was abreast of the lanterns, which, as he had half suspected, lay in a depression, with a high bank of rush and bushes between them and the sea. There was no one with them, and all was very silent.

Where were the smugglers, then?

That was soon solved; for on crawling a little farther he found his hands go down suddenly where the cliff made a rapid slope, and as he lay upon his chest he could hear the hum of voices, the trampling of feet upon the shingle, and though he could hardly distinguish moving figures, his imagination supplied the rest; and, as plainly as if he could see it all, there, he knew, was a large lugger ashore and a party of men landing her cargo, carrying it up the beach and among the rocks, where it was being drawn up by a rough pulley, and yonder, all the while, lay the king's ship in utter ignorance of what was going on.

There it all was, the soft murmur of the sea—he could almost fancy he heard it lap the lugger's sides; and certainly as he gazed more intently down, there was a dark break in the line of foam. That, then, must be the lugger.

If it had only been a little lighter he could have seen all—the busy party like so many ants running to and fro with their loads, while others were drawing them up the rocks ready for the loading of the carts. Yes, there was the creak of a pulley from a heavier load than usual; and this was the way it was done on these dark fine nights. Perhaps in another hour the whole cargo would be drawn up on the cliff, the carts would be loaded at their leisure, and as the tide rose the lugger would push off once more, and all, as he had before said, just under the nose of his majesty's cutter.

"No wonder," thought Hilary, "that we are so often unsuccessful; but we'll checkmate them now! What can I do?"

He lay thus thinking and listening, and then an idea came to him. The men were all busy down below, and they had left their lanterns in that hollow.

As the thought occurred to him he began to crawl back cautiously but quickly till he was close up to where the lanterns were hidden.

"If there is anyone there," he argued, "I can dash off into the darkness and escape."

But he felt sure that there was no one. Still he tested the question by saying suddenly in a gruff voice:

"Now, my lads, you're wanted below."

It was a bold stroke, but it satisfied him that all was right, and that all hands were away.

Now, then, was his time. He could not help the Kestrel's men, they must do the work; but if they came ashore they would know why it was, and the possibilities were that they would surprise the lugger—perhaps be in time to capture half her cargo.

Hilary did not hesitate now, but creeping down into the hollow, he extinguished the candle in one lantern and took off his jacket and wrapped it round the other, completely hiding its light. Then, taking the first in his hand, he crept up once more to the higher part of the cliff.

Here he ould see the lights of the Kestrel plain enough, but even when stooping down he could not help seeing the black patch upon the shore.

That would not do, so he crept back a few yards, finding the cliff rise in a sharp slope, going to the top of which he found that he could see the light in what was apparently a cottage.

Descending again, he cautiously chose a spot where he could easily see the cutter's lights but not the shore below the cliff, and then he paused and listened.

The dull murmur was fainter now, but he could make out the men at work, and for a few moments he hesitated. Suppose he should be surprised and taken back!

"Never mind," he thought, "I am only doing my duty. They dare not kill me, and, in the king's name, here goes."

He uncovered the lantern and placed it upon the turf, where it burned steadily and well; then opening the door, he took the candle from the extinct lantern, lit it, replaced it, and closed it in, put on his jacket, and then, taking a couple of steps to the left, he stood there holding the second lantern breast high, making a signal that he knew would be understood on board if the diagonal lights were seen by anyone of the watch.

Hilary's heart beat fast. He was concealed by the cliff from the busy party below, and by the rise behind him from those inland, but at any moment some one might come up to where the lanterns had been placed, miss them, and see what he was about.

It was risky work, but he did not shrink, although he knew that he was lessening his chances of escape. Still, if he could only bring the Kestrel's boats down upon the scoundrels it would be so grand a coup that his hesitation was always mastered, and he stood firm, gazing out to sea.

How long the minutes seemed, and what a forlorn hope it was! The chances were that the watch might not notice the lights; and even if they were seen, it might not be by anyone of sufficient intelligence to report them to the lieutenant, or to the boatswain or gunner.

Every now and then he fancied he heard steps. Then his imagination created the idea that some one was crawling along the ground to push him over the cliff; but he set his teeth and stood his post, keenly alive, though, to every real sound and such sights as he could see, and ready at any moment to dash down the lanterns and run inland for liberty, if not for life. How dark the lanterns seemed to make it, and how hot the one grew in his hands! Would those on board ever see it, and was he to stand there in vain?

"Ah! if I had only been on board," he muttered, as the time wore on, till what seemed to him a couple of hours had passed, but what was really only about a fourth of that time; "I would have seen it. Somebody ought to have seen it."

Still the lights from the cutter burned out brightly, like a couple of stars, and at last, in a hopeless mood, he began to think that the signal he was displaying was too feeble to be seen so far.

"I may as well give it up," he muttered despairingly; "the rascals will be up directly now, and I shall be caught, and the Kestrels could never get ashore in time.—Yes—no—yes—no—yes," he panted.