rselves. Is not that your opinion, gentlemen?" turning to Lance and
Rex.

"Unquestionably," answered Lance promptly; "the men are, one and all--
excepting, of course, the few who have refused to join the
`brotherhood,' as they call it--outlaws; and, as such, they have no
claim whatever to be treated in the straightforward fashion with which
one deals with a _lawful_ enemy, such as one meets with in ordinary
warfare. Your information, Robert, is valuable, not altogether on
account of its novelty, but rather as being confirmatory of what has
hitherto amounted merely to conjecture on our part. I have long
suspected that our friend Johnson is not quite so straightforward as he
would have us believe. Well, `forewarned is forearmed;' we are
evidently in a very critical position here, a position demanding all the
coolness, self-possession, and foresight we have at our command to
enable us to successfully extricate ourselves; and I think we should
give the matter our immediate consideration--now--to-night, I mean--we
shall perhaps never have a better opportunity--and endeavour to decide
upon some definite plan of future action."

"Very well," said Captain Staunton, "let us continue our walk, and talk
matters over. It is perfectly evident, as you say, Mr Evelin, that we
are in a very critical and difficult position, and the question is, What
steps ought we to take in order to extricate ourselves? I think it is
pretty clear that this man Johnson has no intention of releasing us of
his own free-will; we can be much too useful to him for him ever to do
that; if, therefore, we are ever to get away from this place, it will
have to be done _in spite of him_. And as we are too weak to escape by
force, we must do so by craft; I can see no other way for it, can you?"

"Well," said Lance slowly, blowing a long thin cloud of cigar-smoke
meditatively up into the warm still night air, "I fancy we shall have to
try a combination of both. I cannot conceive any practicable course
which will allow of our escaping without coming to blows with the
pirates; I wish I could. Of course I do not care on my own account,
although--notwithstanding my former profession--I am not particularly
fond of fighting if it can be done without. But there are the ladies
and poor little May; it is of them I always think when the idea of
strife and bloodshed suggests itself. Then there is their _comfort_ as
well as their safety to be thought of; were it no