Was he discovered?
A little round pellet had been shot through the
spy-hole and was lying on the floor. He laid down
the file and stooped to pick up the round thing.
It was a bit of rolled paper.
. . . . .
It was a long way to go down and down, with
the black waves rushing about him--how they
roared----!
Ah, yes! He was only stooping down to pick
up the paper. He was a bit giddy; many people
are when they stoop. There was nothing the
matter with him--nothing.
He picked it up, carried it to the light, and
unfolded it steadily.
"Come to-night, whatever happens; the Cricket
will be transferred to-morrow to another service.
This is our only chance."
He destroyed the paper as he had done the
former one, picked up his file again, and went
back to work, dogged and mute and desperate.
One o'clock. He had been working for three
hours now, and six of the eight bars were filed.
Two more, and then, to climb------
He began to recall the former occasions when
these terrible attacks had come on.
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