hip pressed against the lock to hold it firm against the next
concussion. None came: but presently some one rapped with his
knuckles on the upper panel and a voice, authoritative but civil
enough, challenged us in the name of King George to open.

To this I had almost answered bidding him go to the devil, when a
damsel put her head over the stair-rail of the landing above and
called down to us to obey and open at once: and looking up in the dim
light of the passage I recognized her for the one who had scattered
the flowers, just now, to the rioters.

"Pardon me," said I, "but how shall I know you are not playing us a
trick?"

"My good child," she replied, "open the door and don't stand arguing.
The riot is over and the square full of military. The person who
knocks is Captain Bright of the Pendennis Garrison. If you don't
believe me, step upstairs here and look out of window."

"My father--" I began.

"Your father is right enough, and so is that fool of a Mayor--or will
be when he has drunk down a glass of cordial."

Nevertheless I would not obey her until I had sent Nat Fiennes
upstairs to look; who within a minute called over the stair-head that
the woman told the truth and I had my father's leave to open.
Thereupon I pulled open the upper flap of the door, and stood
blinking at a tall officer in gorgeous regimentals.