the wine
cellar, and the door's locked on him, and there's a man with a gun
forninst the door, and, the Lord save us, it's goin' to hang him they
are."

"Will you show me where the cellar is?" said Maurice.

"Ay, will I no? I'll be checked sore by the master, but I'll show you, I
will."

The girl led him down a long passage, which was nearly dark, opened a
door, and showed him a flight of stone steps.

"There's three doors," she said. "It's the one at the end forninst you
that's the cellar door. Are ye going down? It's venturesome ye are.
Whisht, then, and go canny, and dinna go ayont the bottom of the steps."

Maurice went cautiously. When he reached the bottom of the steps he saw
before him a long passage, stone-flagged, low-roofed, narrow. From an
iron hook at the far end hung a lamp. Beyond it stood a sentry, one of
Captain Twinely's yeomen. The man was awake and alert. There was no sign
of drunkenness about him. He was well armed. The light from the lamp was
dim and feeble at Maurice's end of the passage, but it shone brightly
enough for a space in front of the sentry. Maurice saw that it would
be impossible to approach the man unseen, impossible to steal on him or
rush at him without having a shot fired which would startle every one in
the inn. He crept up the stairs again. The girl was waiting for him.

"Is the door of the cellar locked?" he asked.

"Ay, it is, I fetched the last bottles of wine out mysel', and I saw
them put the man in--sore draggled he was, and looking like a body in a
dwam. The master locked the door himsef, and the captain took the keys
off with him. But there's no harm in that. There's another key that the
mistress used to have afore she died, the creature. It's in a drawer in
the master's room, but it's easy got at."

"Get it for me," said Maurice.

He looked into the public room again. The revel was far advanced now.
It was nearly midnight, and only three or four of the most seasoned
drinkers survived. Even they, as Maurice saw, were in no position to
assert themselves, or to understand anything that was going on. A
few minutes later even these veterans felt that they had had enough.
Supporting each other, reeling against tables and chairs, they staggered
upstairs to their beds. The greater part of the merry company lay on
the floor in attitudes which were neither dignified nor comfortable,
and snored. The rest of the inn was silent. From outside came the steady
tramp of the sol