"Now, tell Sydney and the Duke as soon as you can. To-morrow is our first day of opportunity, and we must be ready. Should it rain heavily or should the mist hang, we shall take our chance. All we have to do is to secure the Warder just as the five o'clock bell rings, and lie down over there inside the wall of this little yard. No one ever looks over. They will think as they pass from the farm that we have marched in as usual." Before night Featherstone had told the Duke and Sydney, and the manner of those convicts changed mysteriously from that moment. Their gloom vanished. They smiled at Geoffrey every time he met their eyes. They were constantly whispering to each other and smiling, and often they looked long at the Warder and measured him as a foeman. The next day was Wednesday. It rained in the morning, and the hearts of the four political prisoners went up at the steady down-pour. But the sun burnt through the clouds at noon, and the moor glistened under his beams all the rest of the day. "Don't fret, Duke," whispered Featherstone. "Our day is coming; we are young yet." The Duke bowed at the kind words, and he and Sydney smiled broadly at Geoffrey to show him that they were strong-hearted, just as they looked serious to make the Warder think they were working very hard indeed. The next two days were fine, and the Saturday opened with a smile that fell like a pall on the hearts that pined for freedom. But about three o'clock in the afternoon, as the two toilers on the windlass "heaved" laboriously, the Duke gave a little cry of joy, so low that only Sydney heard him. A large drop of rain had fallen on his hand, which he held toward Sydney. Five minutes later Geoffrey, who had been watching the clouds, bent his head to Featherstone, who was working in a cavity they had made in the cairn. "To-night, I think," he said. "It promises splendidly." Featherstone, who was quite concealed in his hole, laughed quietly, and pointed to his biceps. Geoffrey glanced at the two below and found them watching his eye with a question. He gave a little nod, and they both smiled, and soon after turned their gaze on the Warder, who, to escape the rain, had crouched down in lee of the low wall. When Featherstone saw him he said to Geoffrey, "Just look! The Duke alone could capture that fellow now." Had the Warder looked closely at his prisoners he might have noticed something odd about their proceedings. Though it rained hard none of them had donned the heavy striped linen blouse furnished to Dartmoor prisoners for use in wet weather. The truth was that the blouses of all four were at that time being cut into strips, and twisted into stout cords by the big Colonel in his hole in the cairn. At 4.30 the rain fell with sober steadiness, and there was no longer a doubt. In half an hour the bell would ring. The Warder still crouched under the wall. Another quarter of an hour passed, and the machinery of escape began to move.