"Quick. I've a pack of hungry wolves at my
heels."
He leaned against a heavy piece of furniture hardly able to speak while
the apothecary hastily fastened the door. Scarcely had he finished than
yells and heavy footsteps were heard; there came heavy thuds and fierce
kicks followed by repeated hammering. The door was well protected by
iron panels and besides its bolts a stout iron bar from post to post
helped to make it secure.
The two men looked at each other and Mountchance trembled. The crowd
outside were not officers of the law, neither were they soldiery. What
had caused them to hunt down Rofflash? Not because he had committed a
robbery on the King's highway. The rabble had a secret sympathy with
highwaymen.
"What have you done?" whispered the old man through his white lips.
"Shot a man. It was a fair fight--or might have been had it come to a
tussle."
Mountchance knew Rofflash to be a hardened liar. The truth probably was
that he had committed a murder. But there was no time to argue the
point. To judge by the terrific blows which came at regular intervals
something much more formidable than an ordinary hammer was being used.
Then there was the sound of splintering wood. The door sturdy as it was
would not stand much more. As a matter of fact the mob had procured a
stout wooden beam from somewhere, twelve or fourteen feet long and were
making it serve as a battering-ram.
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