Presently the door was unlocked, as he expected it would be, by the governor's black servant, Caliban, bearing a lantern.
Caliban was a powerful fellow, but no match for the brigadier, who seized him by the throat with a gripe like that of a vice, and hurled him to the ground.
The cries of the half-strangled black brought the governor, and Mr. Ballard, the head turnkey, to the spot.
They were struck with amazement at seeing the brigadier, but did not dare to grapple with him, now that he was free from his irons.
Leaving them to be dealt with by his followers, who were now thronging the press-room, the brigadier hurried on—his object being to disarm the sentinel.
Before the man could raise the musket to his shoulder, Mackintosh sprang upon him like a tiger, and forced the weapon from his grasp, while young Hepburn pinioned the man's arms.
Meantime, Ballard had been deprived of his keys, and he and Mr. Pitts were thrust through the door leading to the staircase from the press-room, and locked out.
The porter in the lodge alone remained—at least, it was thought so by the fugitives—but he chanced to have a watchman with him at the time, and this gossiping guardian of the night, hearing the disturbance, endeavoured to rush out and spring his rattle.
But he was caught and deprived of his coat, lantern, and hat by the brigadier, who thought the disguise might prove serviceable to some of his followers.
In another minute the fugitives were out in the street, which was fortunately quite deserted at the time, and the lodge gate being locked outside, immediate pursuit was impossible.