"There is no one concealed here," Ronald replied, "and I doubt that you are, as you say, officers of the peace; but if so, pass your warrant through the grill, and if it be signed and in due form I will open to you."
"I will show my warrant when need be," the voice answered. "Once more, open the door or we will break it in."
"Do it at your peril," Ronald replied. "How can I tell you are not thieves who seek to ransack the house, and that your warrant is a pretence? I warn you that the first who enters I will run him through the body."
The reply was a shower of blows on the door, and a similar attack was begun by a party behind the house. The door was strong, and after a minute or two the hammering ceased, and then there was a creaking, straining noise, and Ronald knew they were applying a crowbar to force it open. He retreated to a landing halfway up the stairs, placed a lamp behind him so that it would show its light full on the faces of those ascending the stairs, and waited. A minute later there was a crash; the lock had yielded, but the bar still held the door in its place. Then the blows redoubled, mingled with the crashing of wood; then there was the sound of a heavy fall, and a body of men burst in.
There was a rush at the stairs, but the foremost halted at the sight of Ronald with his drawn sword.
"Keep back," he shouted, "or beware! The watch will be here in a few minutes, and then you will all be laid by the heels."
"Fools! We are the watch," one of the men exclaimed, and, dashing up the stairs, aimed a blow at Ronald. He guarded it and ran the man through the shoulder. He dropped his sword and fell back with a curse.
At this moment the woman ran down stairs from above and nodded to Ronald to signify that the fugitive had escaped.
"You see I hold to my word," Ronald said in a loud voice. "If ye be the watch, which I doubt, show me the warrant, or if ye have one in authority with you let him proclaim himself."
"Here is the warrant, and here am I, James M'Whirtle, a magistrate of this city."