"Why did you come? Get away as quickly as you can," she breathed. "Oh, you were mad to come here!"
"But—but you?" he said.
"They will not hurt me," she said rapidly. "It is the old man they want. Can you smash the lock and get him inside?"
"Give us the book, Jew," yelled a deep voice above the babel of sound. "Give us the book and you shall live! Lady! Magnificence! Make the old man give us the book!"
Malcolm took a flying kick at the gate and the lock yielded. He half lifted, half carried the old man and pushed inside, where another locked door confronted them.
"Have you a key?" demanded Malcolm hurriedly. "Quick!"
The old man felt in his pocket with trembling fingers and in doing so he crept behind his guardian. Malcolm now turned and faced the crowd.
"Come in, for God's sake," he called to the girl, but she shook her head.
"They will not hurt me," she said over her shoulder; "it is you!"