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.