You can't keep prisoners in English country houses, nowadays.

There are a dozen ways of communicating with the outside world, and when that's once done, it seems to me that the position of Squire Fentolin of St.David's Hall might be a little peculiar." Mr.Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly.
"Alas, my stalwart friend, I fear that you are by nature an optimist! I am not a betting man, but I am prepared to bet you a hundred pounds to one that you have made your last communication with the outside world until I say the word." Mr.Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage or bravado, for he only laughed.
"Then you had better make up your mind at once, Mr.Fentolin, how soon that word is to be spoken, or you may lose your money," he remarked.
Mr.Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair.
"You mean, then," he asked, "that you do not intend to humour me in this little matter ?" "I do not intend," Mr.Dunster assured him, "to part with that word to you or to any one else in the the world.

When my message has been presented to the person to whom it has been addressed, when my trust is discharged, then and then only shall I send that cablegram.

That moment can only arrive at the end of my journey." Mr.Fentolin leaned now a little forward in his chair.

His face was still smooth and expressionless, but there was a queer sort of meaning in his words.
"The end of your journey," he said grimly, "may be nearer than you think." "If I am not heard of in The Hague to-morrow at the latest," Mr.Dunster pointed out, "remember that before many more hours have passed, I shall be searched for, even to the far corners of the earth." "Let me assure you," Mr.Fentolin promised serenely, "that though your friends search for you up in the skies or down in the bowels of the earth, they will not find you.