The glass of the porthole was thick, but clear.

I knelt on the berth, and looked out, dimly perceiving the shore-line slipping past, with an ever-broadening stretch of water intervening.

Then I sat down helplessly on the stool, and waited for something to occur.

Escape was impossible; I could only hope for some movement on the part of my captors.
I had little enough to think over, for the few words spoken in the cellar had furnished no clew.

My purpose there was known, and these men had considered it worth while to put me out of the way, and to pick up my companion also, yet I could not directly connect this action with Judge Henley's will.