Throughout the flight the cripple lad had not spoken once, but now, noticing perhaps how his rescuer panted, and how their escape seemed as far off as ever, he found his tongue. "Leave me behind, sir. Thou canst not escape burdened with me. Seek thine own safety. What need for both to perish?" "I cannot leave thee, lad, once I have taken the task upon me. Fear not; while I still possess a sword I will never lose hope." As he spoke Edgar drove the blade of his sword through the top panel of the door, tore it out, and again and again drove it back. Then with the hilt he hammered the splintered woodwork inwards with quick sharp blows until a hole gaped the full length and breadth of the panel. "Now, lad, thine escape at least is assured. Come; I am going to pass thee through this hole." Lifting the lad, Edgar thrust him through the cavity and lowered him gently down. And not one whit too soon, for the advance guard of the men from the end of the alley and those who had followed him through the houses was now upon the scene. Making a sudden rush at the nearest of them, Edgar wounded two and momentarily drove the rest headlong back. Then retreating as suddenly as he had advanced, he sprang to the broken door and swung himself quickly through the gap. Inside he found himself in a dark passage, between stacks of goods piled to the ceiling. Followed by the cripple, who had awaited his coming, and who could now limp slowly along, he traversed the passage and mounted some steps to what appeared to be the inhabited part of the building. In a minute or two he came to the door of a room, inside which he could hear the sound of laughter and the clink of cups and platters. Here at least seemed hope of succour. It was indeed high time, for the noise of axes and hammers pounding at the outer door and the yells of the savage mob outside reverberated threateningly along the passage. In a minute or two the remnants of the door must give way and allow them free ingress. Already some of the cut-throats might have ventured singly through the gap and be stealing along in the darkness. Opening the door without ceremony, Edgar pressed eagerly in, followed by the lad. The sight which met them, fresh from the hurly-burly, seemed strange in its dissimilarity, and almost made them momentarily doubt the reality of what they had gone through. The room was comfortably furnished and brightly lit, and at a large table in its centre sat a merchant, his wife, and several daughters at supper. All rose to their feet, as with a single impulse, as Edgar, panting and blood-streaked, and with a naked and reddened sword in his hand, strode impetuously in. "Sirrah, what is this?" cried the merchant hastily. "What dost thou in my dwelling?" "To seek aid. We are fugitives," panted Edgar. "From the law? Come not to me for succour, but begone!"