"Within a hundred yards of it."
"And then 'Sauve qui peut,' I suppose."
Rumbold inclined his head gravely.
"And Nether Hall," continued Howard, "belongs to our young friend Farmer Lee. I perceive now. You're a clever man, Captain Hannibal. You did well indeed to win the fellow to our cause, since his premises appear to be indispensable to our precious lives. But how is it we do not see him here to bid us welcome to his dungeons?"
"We may find him below. But if not, 'tis no matter; and if he should have stolen a leaf from Master Goodenough's book there, and gone to bed, I have the duplicate keys. He has made them over to me;" and the maltster, kindling his extinguished torch, signed to his companions to do the same. "'Tis pretty well pitch dark," he added warningly, "even in broad daylight, every step of the way. Ho there, Sheriff! Wake up! And a murrain on you for a sleepy-head. Give him a pinch, colonel," he added to Rumsey, who chanced to be seated nearest the sleeper.
Two left behind.
"I couldn't be so barbarous," replied Rumsey, with a peculiar sneering smile. "Hark!" he went on, as a thunderous snort was all the comment on Rumbold's adjuration. "Let him be."
"Oy, oy. Let 'm bide, cap'n," said the foreman. "They narrer cellars an't for the loikes of a hogshead like he. He'd be stickin' fast in the middle o' them like a dodnum in a duck's weasand. Let 'un sleep his sleep out."
"Nonsense, man!" said Walcot. "We can't leave him here all alone."
"He won't be alone if I'm with him, I suppose," said Rumsey with a snarl; "and I shall remain here. You won't catch me coming down to break my shins in your pitch-dark vaults at this time of night; as if I wasn't lamed enough already with that confounded stumble I made on Monday night. Time enough when I've got to run for it."