They reached the door at last. There were three steps going up to it, and
Mr. Buxton went up them, making a good deal of noise as he did so, to
ensure Anthony's hearing him should he be above ground. Then, as if with
great difficulty, he unlocked the door, rattling it, and clicking sharply
with his tongue at its stiffness.
"You see, Mr. Graves." he said, rather loud, as he opened the door a
little, "my prison will not be a narrow one." He threw the door open,
gave a glance round, and was satisfied. The targets leaned against one
wall, and two rows of flower-pots stood in the corner near where the
window opened into the lane, but there was no sign of occupation. Mr.
Buxton went across, threw the window open and looked out. There was a
steel cap three or four feet below, and a pike-head; and at the sound of
the latch a bearded face looked up.
"I see you have a sentry there," said Mr. Buxton carelessly.
"Ah! that is one of Mr. Maxwell's men."
"Mr. Maxwell's!" said the other, startled. "Is he in this affair too?"
"Yes; have you not heard? He came from Great Keynes this morning. Mr.
Lackington sent for him."
Mr. Buxton's face grew dark.
"Ah yes, I see--a pretty revenge."
The magistrate was on the point of asking an explanation, for he felt on
the best of terms again now with his prisoner, when there were footsteps
outside and voices; and there stood four constables, with Nichol, Hubert
Maxwell and Lackington in furious debate coming up the path behind.
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