"We will try to blow the lock in. Keep away from the line of fire."
"Fire away. I am at the side of the room," said the prisoner.
Warrender placed the muzzle in the keyhole and fired. There was the crack of shattered metal, but still the door did not yield. He fired a second time and pushed.
"It is giving. Shove!" he said.
Pratt turned his back to the door, and thrusting his feet as firmly as he could against the curving wall, he drove backwards with all his force. The fragments of the broken lock clattered upon the floor within, and the door swinging open suddenly, precipitated Pratt headlong into the room.
Warrender flashed his torch upon the scene. Against the left, the eastern wall, sitting on a roughly contrived bunk supported between two massive oaken beams that stretched from floor to roof, was the tall lank figure that Armstrong had described. He was chained by the leg to one of the beams, the chain forming a loop around it, the last link being riveted to one in the longer portion.
Ambrose Pratt gazed in speechless surprise at the two schoolboys.
"Uncle!" exclaimed Pratt, going forward with outstretched hand.
Mr. Pratt looked with an expression of utter bewilderment and incredulity.
"Don't you remember me? I'm your nephew Percy," said the boy.