"Now," he cried, fiercely, "I have the upper-hand, my lad. You are my prisoner. Make but one sound, and it is your last."
The buccaneer uttered a low moan, and snatched at the blade, but the intervening hand was thrust away, and the point pressed upon the heaving flesh.
"Do you give in?"
"No!" cried the buccaneer, fiercely. "Strike, Humphrey Armstrong; strike, and end my miserable life! Then go and say, I have slain the woman who loved me with all her heart!"
"What!" cried Humphrey, starting back, as the sword fell from his nerveless hand, and a flash, as of a revelation, enlightened him as to the meaning of much that had before seemed strange.
"Well, why do you not strike? Did I not speak plainly? I am Mary Dell!"
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
A FRESH ALARM.
"Yes; who called?" cried Humphrey, starting up.
"Hist! Be careful. It is me."
Humphrey sprang front his couch, and was about to speak, when the curtain was thrown roughly aside, and Bart entered quickly.
"What's the matter!" he said, roughly.
"Matter!" said Humphrey. "I--I--must have been dreaming."
Bart looked at him sourly, and then gave a suspicious look round.
"What time is it?" said Humphrey, hastily.
"Time! What do we know about time here? 'Bout four bells."
Humphrey gazed excitedly at the dimly-seen figure, visible by a faint light which streamed in beside the curtain, and then as the curtain fell he advanced slowly till he could peer through and see that Bart had gone right to the far end of the corridor, where he had a lantern set in a stone recess, beside which he ensconced himself, and played sentry once again.
"Escape is impossible unless I choose the gates of death," muttered Humphrey, as he stole back cautiously, and then in a low voice said--
"Hist! Did anyone call?"
"Yes. Is it safe to whisper?" came from above.
"Mistress Greenheys!" cried Humphrey, joyfully. "Speak low, don't whisper; it penetrates too far. How I have longed to hear from you!"
"Oh, sir, pray, pray, save him!"
"Dinny!" said Humphrey, starting.
"Yes. He is to be killed, and it was for your sake he ran that risk.
Pray, try and save him."
"What can I do?"
"Implore the captain. He may listen to you. I cannot bear it, sir; it makes me feel half mad!"
"Have you seen him?"
"Seen him? No, sir. He's kept closely shut up in one of the stone chambers by the captain's quarters, and two men watch him night and day."
"As I am watched," said Humphrey, bitterly.
"Yes, sir; but you have not been untrue to your captain. You are not sentenced to death, and every man eager to see you hung. My poor Dennis! It is my fault, too. Why did we ever meet?"
Humphrey was silent.
"You will see the captain, sir, and ask him to spare his life?"
Humphrey ground his teeth. To ask Dinny's life was to ask a favour of Mary Dell, and to place himself under greater obligations still.
"That is not all the trouble," said the woman, who was evidently sobbing bitterly. "That wretch Mazzard is still at liberty."
"Not escaped?" cried Humphrey.
"Not escaped!--not taken!" said the woman. "He is in hiding about the place, and I have seen him."
She seemed to shudder, and her sobs grew more frequent.
"He has not dared to come to you?"
"No, sir; but he came near enough to speak to and threaten me. He will come some night and drag me away, and it would be better to die. Ah!"
She uttered a low cry; and as Humphrey listened he heard low, quick talking, a faint rustling overhead, and then the sound of the voices died away.
"Discovered!" said Humphrey, bitterly. "Fate is working against me now.
Better, as she said, to die."
A quarter of an hour's silence ensued, and conscious that at any moment he might be watched, as far as the deep gloom would allow, Humphrey seated himself upon the edge of the old stone altar, and folded his arms, to see what would be the next buffet of fate he was to bear.
He had not long to wait.
There was the sound of a challenge at the end of the corridor, and a quick reply, followed by an angry muttering, and Humphrey laughed mockingly.
"Master and dog!" he said, bitterly. "Mistress and dog, I ought to say."
He drew himself up, for he heard a well-known step coming quickly along the passage. The curtain was snatched aside, and the buccaneer took a dozen strides into the place and stopped, looking round.
"Where are you?" cried the buccaneer, in a harsh, imperious voice, deep almost as that of a man.
There was no reply.