What they may do is to run into some very quiet inlet--there are hundreds on these northern coasts--and take Chatfield to his hiding-place.

Chatfield's like all scoundrels of his type--a horrible coward if a pistol's held to his head.
Now they've got him, they'll force him to disgorge.

Hang this compulsory inactivity!--my nerves are all a-tingle to get going at things!" "Let's occupy ourselves with the things our generous gaolers have been kind enough to send us, then," suggested Audrey.

"We'd better carry them up to our shelter." Copplestone went down to the things which the boat's crew had deposited on the beach--a couple of small packing-cases, a bundle of wraps and cushions, and some books, magazines and newspapers.

He picked up a paper with a cry which suggested a discovery of importance.
"Look at that!" he exclaimed.