The noise which had made Rosa suppose that the people were forcing the prison door was indeed owing to the mob battering against it after the square had been left by the military.
Solid as the gate was, and although Gryphus, to do him justice, stoutly enough refused to open it; yet evidently it could not resist much longer, and the jailer, growing very pale, put to himself the question whether it would not be better to open the door than to allow it to be forced: when he felt some one gently pulling his coat.
He turned round and saw Rosa.
“Do you hear these madmen?” he said.
“I hear them so well, my father, that in your place”
“You would open the door?”
“No, I should allow it to be forced.”
“But they will kill me!”
“Yes, if they see you.”
“How shall they not see me?”
“Hide yourself.”
“Where?”
“In the secret dungeon.”
“But you, my child?”
“I shall get into it with you. We shall lock the door and when they have left the prison, we shall again come forth from our hiding place.”
“Zounds, you are right, there!” cried Gryphus; “it’s surprising how much sense there is in such a little head!”
Then, as the gate began to give way amidst the triumphant shouts of the mob, she opened a little trap-door, and said,—
“Come along, come along, father.”
“But our prisoners?”
