" Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. After repeatedly trying to remove the plate, which was so firmly screwed down that it resisted all his efforts, and vainly attempting to pick it with the spike and nail; he, at length, after half an hour's ineffectual labour, wrenched off the box by means of the iron bar, and the door, as he laughingly expressed it, "became his humble servant. " Casting one look of anguish at his leader, Blueskin then darted down the passage. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark.
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