e was no chance for his body there, the head would not go first.

He returned, after listening intently, unable to hear a sound, and put
his ear to the key-hole of the door to listen there; but all was still,
and the faint hope that the girl might be near and open to an appeal for
his liberty died away.

Again he felt all about the room, to satisfy himself afresh that there
was no way out, and he paused by the chimney, half disposed to essay
that means of escape, but he shook his head.

"A fellow who was shut up in prison for life might do it," he said, "but
not in a case like this."

Then, utterly wearied out, with his long and arduous twenty-four hours'
task, beginning with his watch on the cutter's deck, he felt his way to
the big chair opposite to the window to rest his legs, and try and think
out some plan.

"Nobody can think well when he's tired," he said; and he began to run
over in his mind the whole of the incidents since he landed a few hours
earlier.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"Sure you've looked round everywhere, boy?"

"Yes, father, quite."

"Nothing left nowhere? Sure none of the lads chucked anything aside the
path when they ran up?"

"Yes, father. I looked well both sides."

"Humph! Worse lads than you if you knew where to find 'em."

"Thank ye, father."

"I'm going home to breakfast."

"Shall I come too, father?"

"No. Stop here till Sir Risdon comes down, and tell him I'm very sorry;
that we should have cleared out last night, only a born fool saw Jerry
Nandy's lobster-boat coming into the cove, and came running to say it
was a party from the cutter."

"Yes, father."

"Tell him not to be uneasy; 'tis all right, and I'll have everything
clear away to-night."

The dull sound of departing steps, and a low whistling sound coming down
through the skylight window into the cabin where Archy Raystoke lay with
his heavy eyelids pressed down by sleep.

"What a queer dream!" he thought to himself. "No; it couldn't be a
dream. He must be awake. But how queer for Mr Gurr to be talking like
that to Andrew Teal, the boy who helped the cook! And why did Andy call
Mr Gurr father?"

There was an interval of thinking over this knotty question, during
which the low whistling went on.

"If Mr Brough goes on deck and catches that boy whistling, there'll be
someone to pay and no pitch hot," thought Archy nautically. "But what
did Mr Gurr mean about going home to breakfast? And I'm hungry t