‘Not kill me, I mean. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. I’ll have to wait here, of course, which means you, Hilary—’ ‘Will have to do tomorrow’s patrol. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your liberation to me, also.
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