ave made my duty almost a pleasure, sir."

They went out together into the hall, Mr. Buxton carrying the key of the
garden-house that he had taken from the drawer of his table; he glanced
ruefully at the wrecked furniture and floor, and his eyes twinkled for a
moment as they rested on the four places at table still undisturbed, and
then met the magistrate's sidelong look. The men were still at the doors,
resting now on chairs or leaning against the wall, with their weapons
beside them; it was weary work this mounting sentry and losing the hunt,
and their faces showed it. The two passed out together into the garden,
and began to walk up the path that led straight across the avenue to
where the high vanes of the garden-house stood up grotesque and towering
against the evening sky, above the black yew-hedges.

All the while they went Mr. Buxton was thinking out his plan. It was
still incoherent; but, at any rate, it was a step gained to be able to
communicate with Anthony again; and at least the poor lad should have
some supper. And then he smiled to himself with relief as he saw what an
improvement there had been in the situation as it had appeared to him an
hour ago. Why, they would search the house again next day; find no one,
and retire apologising. His occupancy of the garden-house with the
magistrate's full consent would surely secure it from search; and he was
not so well satisfied with the disguised entrance to the passage at this
end as with that in the cellar.

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.