They burned well, and presently the rest followed.

Well for Dickson's peace of soul that he was not a witness of such vandalism.
A little warmer but in no way more cheerful, he resumed his watch near the window.

The day was getting darker, and promised an early dusk.
His watch told him that it was after four, and still nothing had happened.

Where on earth were Dickson and the Princess?
Where in the name of all that was holy were the police?
Any minute now the brig might arrive and land its men, and he would be left there as a burnt-offering to their wrath.

There must have been an infernal muddle somewhere....