The two men laughed and then departed. No attempt was made to conceal from the captives the locality of the entrance, as the knowledge, in all probability, could be of no help to them. The day passed, and the evening. Together the two girls sat, not yet quite hopeless, though how help was to reach them they could not imagine. At length, when weariness had so far overpowered them that they could keep awake no longer, they ventured to trust themselves in the bed. It was, as their captor had said, clean and sweet, or freshly aired, and it was soft and grateful to lie upon. They prayed in unison, and very soon thereafter slept. Once during the night Mary awoke, and her movement awoke her mistress. The former got out of bed and lighted two fresh tapers, and from that they slept soundly until morning. They found plenty of water, and having washed and dressed, they set out the food and drink for breakfast. It was then, by Cordelia’s watch, seven o’clock. Two hours had passed when she consulted the watch again. Oh, what should come next? Half an hour later, perhaps more--they could not surely judge--the sound of the moving stone once more fell upon their ears. Slowly it swung inward--further and further--until the way was open wide. And then entered the pirate chief, Ralph Tryon, dressed in the rich and costly garb of an English nobleman! And behind him, coming two abreast, followed six men of his crew dressed in holiday attire. But that was not all. Last--was it real or but a wild fancy of her overwrought brain?--last came a man in the somber robes and bearing in his hands the missal of a Catholic priest! What did it mean? ------- CHAPTER XVII. A SURPRISE FOR ALL HANDS. Through the long and weary day and far into the night Percy and the earl worked hard and unremittingly in the search for the missing ones. During the afternoon the former ventured down to the shore of the cove, at the point where he had once been in the habit of keeping a boat of his own, and there remained until he had succeeded in attracting the attention of Donald Rodney. It was a considerable time before the old smuggler could get away from the keen and suspicious watch of Ralph Tryon’s partisans; but his patient endeavors were finally rewarded. He took a boat and pulled to the shore, ostensibly for the purpose of responding to a signal, which he professed to have received from Margery Maitland. “In mercy’s name!” he ejaculated, when he met the agonized look of his young friend, “what has happened?” “Donald, where is Ralph Tryon?” “I believe he is somewhere in the neighborhood of Burton, and I rather think there is mischief afoot. Leastwise, one of our friends heard Abel Jackman, when he was talking with Gurt Warnell, say something about a lord’s house over there which they intended to visit.” “Do you really believe he is away from here, Donald?”