There was an excited guffaw from Martin.
‘Campion,’ he said, ‘look at this.’
‘Coo!’ said Mr Campion idiotically, and was silent.
‘The most militant old dear I’ve ever seen in all my life,’ murmured Martin aloud. ‘Probably a Lady Di-something-or-other. Fourteen stone if she weighs an ounce, and a face like her own mount. God, she’s angry. Hullo! She’s dismounting.’
‘She’s coming for him,’ yelped Mr Campion. ‘Oh, Inky-Pinky! God’s in His Heaven, all’s right with the world. She’s caught him across the face with her crop. Guffy!’ The last word was bellowed at the top of his voice, and the note of appeal in it penetrated through the uproar.
‘Get us out! And take care for yourselves. They’re armed and desperate.’
‘With you, my son.’
The cheering voice from outside thrilled them more than anything had done in their lives before, and Martin dropped back from the window, breathless and flushed.
‘What a miracle,’ he said. ‘What a heaven-sent glorious miracle. Looks as if our Guardian Angel had a sense of humour.’
‘Yes, but will they be able to get to us?’ Meggie spoke nervously. ‘After all, they are armed, and –’