The fellow's face widened in a sickly smile as he entered the billiard-room by way of the open window. After relieving him of an amazingly sharp sheath-knife, they tied his hands and feet and locked him safe in an empty room. "You see, O'Rourke, I am the man he is after; I have the diamond he talks about," explained Hicks. O'Rourke whistled softly, and smiled inquiringly at the big fever-thinned secretary. "Take it from him?" he queried. "I bought it from him," replied Hicks, "and it's on me now." "Hold on to it, then, old chap," said O'Rourke, "and don't gab. He hates me, anyway, so he may just as well keep on thinking I have the stone. He was cook aboard a barquentine in which I made a voyage last year. I was a passenger,--the skipper's friend,--and when the skipper was sick I had to interview the cook once or twice." The colonel died that evening, at a quarter past six, of too much rum and whiskey and not enough medical treatment. His soldiers had done their best to save his life. Three of them, with the best intentions, held him upside down in a fountain for a good fifteen minutes, at the very beginning of his illness. Then they had carried him to his own quarters, and watched him expire. The Señor Cuddlehead now took command, for the officers were in a funk. Through an interpreter he lectured and encouraged the men. He assured them that, should Hemming escape from the house alive, they would all swing for it, sooner or later; and that should they capture and bear away the other inmates, every man would find himself rich. What matter if the ladies had escaped, he said--surely the friends of Mr. Hicks would gladly pay a great ransom, should they succeed in carrying him away to the hills. CHAPTER XIV. THE ATTACK When news of the colonel's death reached Hemming, he sighed with relief. "That ends it," he said. "The old man was a fool, but he held them together." "What about that Penthouse-Cuddlehead chap? He seems to be taking an interest in it," said Hicks. "He is sneak enough for anything, but he is also a coward," replied Hemming. "This is a poor sort of revolution," said O'Rourke. "I have had more excitement waiting for my mail at the window of a country post-office. A Sunday-school treat beats it hands down. Davis could invent a better one in his sleep." "Please don't talk like an ass, old chap," said Hemming. He found the revolution quite exciting enough. "I shall go and look at my prisoner--he may be in a better humour than you," remarked O'Rourke, pensively. Hicks followed him to the door of the locked room. "These duffers don't want to fight. They never did, either. It was all a bluff of the colonel's," he said. The other shook his head.