There was the turnkey's belt lying on the floor, with the keys and manacles fixed to it, just as it had failed and come off him at the fatal moment. Elzevir picked it up, tried the keys till he found the right one, and unlocked the door of the well-house.
"There are other locks to open before we get out," I said.
"Ay," he answered, "but it is more than our life is worth to be seen with these keys, so send them down the well, after their master."
I took them back and flung them, belt and keys and handcuffs, clanking down against the sides into the blackness and the hidden water at the bottom. Then we took pail and hammer, brush and ropes, and turned our backs upon that hateful place. There was the little court to cross before we came to the doors of the banquet-hall. They were locked, but we knocked until a guard opened them. He knew us for the plasterer-men, who had passed an hour before, and only asked, "Where is Ephraim?" meaning the turnkey. "He is stopping behind in the well-house," Elzevir said, and so we passed
