“Admittance; come down and open the door,” answered the spokesman of the party.
“We don’t admit visitors at this time o’ night,” said the jailor.
“Come down and open the door, or we’ll break it in,” was the response, in a tone of fierce determination.
“Who are you?” asked the jailor.
“Himes’s avengers. Give the murderer into our hands, and we ask nothing more.”
“Can’t do it, gentlemen. He’s been committed to my care by the officers of the law, and I’ve no right to give him up to any one else.”
“We don’t offer you any choice in the matter; you’ll open to us and give him up, or we’ll break in and take him in spite of you.”
Again the jailor refused to accede to their demand; then thundering blows of axes and hammers wielded by strong arms fell fast and thick on the door, the noise resounding through the building and striking terror to every hearer within its walls.
At length the door gave way, the assailants poured into the hall and seized the jailor, who had come down, lamp in hand, and would have tried to persuade them to resign their purpose; but they would not hear a word from him. As he refused to give up his keys, they bound him hand and foot and took forcible possession of them, then hastened to the cell wherein their intended victim was confined.
The noise of the struggle with the jailor, the tramp of heavy feet traversing the corridors, the fitting of the key in the lock of the cell door, all reached the ears of Phelim and Belinda, causing both their hearts to quake with terror. Belinda held her breath to listen, while trembling so that she could scarce keep from falling to the ground.