“The men were actually starved,” said Richard Dale, his eyes shining with anger. “You will better understand their dreadful condition when I tell you that one day they caught a stray dog and killed and cooked it for food. But Captain Johnson and some of the officers dug a hole beneath the wall of the prison, and one night about a dozen of us escaped. We held together for a week or more, wandering by night about the countryside; then we separated and I made my way to London with one companion. We had taken a ship for France when a press-gang boarded her and we were seized, recognized and sent back to Mill prison in chains. I have been there ever since,” said the young man in conclusion. “My first breath of freedom in a year was taken when I stepped through the door of the prison yesterday morning and saw you standing across the way.” “I don’t exactly understand,” said Ethan bewilderedly. “No one attempted to stop you.” “Of course not,” answered Dale with a smile. “A kind hearted person of rank who pitied me provided me with this uniform; and I passed, unsuspected, through the keepers to freedom.” “Who was the person?” asked Ethan. But Richard Dale smiled and shook his head. He lived a long life and died at the head of the American navy, but he ever refused to tell who had assisted him that day to escape from the Mill prison at Plymouth. “When I saw you standing across the way,” said Dale, “your intent expression unnerved me for a moment. I thought you had penetrated my disguise. But when I heard your voice I fancied that you might be an American.” “And that is why you warned me to go to London,” said Ethan. “Yes. But when I saw you at the inn last night I began to suspect you again. I fancied you were following me on the road to-day, and changed my route and came this way.” “And I,” laughed Ethan, “thought the same of you, and left the highroad for the same reason.” They talked together while the landlady prepared some bacon and eggs for them. A light carriage drawn by a pair of swift gray horses drew up at the inn door; a man and a well grown boy leaped out; and at sight of them Ethan Carlyle shrank back out of sight. “What is it?” asked Dale in astonishment as the newcomers entered the inn. But Ethan did not reply; his eyes were following the forms of Stephen Wheelock and the spy, Danvers, as they disappeared through the doorway. CHAPTER XXI THE EXPLOIT OF MASTER DIRK HATFIELD Ethan recovered himself in a very few moments; and then he told Dale the story of the dispatch and the part which Danvers had played in its disappearance. “And so it has fallen into British hands at last,” said Dale, regretfully. “Too bad; for you and Captain Jones did all you could to save it, I can see that.”