"I had thought they had gone," said one, in a thick voice.
"'Twas a fetch of theirs."
"The cellar door is strong," said the tapster Jocelin, but without confidence. "It will last."
"Until what time?" asked my uncle, mocking them. "And then, whence will you escape, you rats?"
One had blown out the light at the first alarm, and they conferred in the absolute dark.
"Ha!" cried Jocelin at that taunt of the prisoner's, and with a squealing note of triumph, "there is the new door in the sea-wall to escape by," and scrambling through their midst to the cellar door, he bade his comrades follow him forth. But at the door he stayed, as of necessity he must; for 'twas locked, and I that had locked it was within the room now, in the dark, with the key in my pocket. I had scarce time to slip aside, ere the next man had flung Jocelin by for a bungler, and the third trampled him down. Over his prostrate body the rest passed surging. Knives were out, for all had run distraught at this unlooked-for prevention. Treachery by each suspected was by every hand revenged. I heard the sobbing of stricken men, as I felt my way along the wall to the place where my uncle sat yet pinioned to his chair. And all this while the daunting clangour continued, as of a giant's mallet beating on the door; nay, even upon the stones of the wall, for the whole room shivered and rocked to the hideous repeated sound.
I unloosed my uncle, cutting his thongs with a cutlass I had kicked against and groped after on the floor; a hand still held it, but I got it free.
"Who is that?" asked my uncle composedly.
"Hist!" I whispered. "I am your nephew, Denis Cleeve."
"You add to my obligations, Mr. Denis," he replied, and stretched himself. "But how does my good brother the magistrate?"