The fifth
was a bearded young man, well dressed; but he could not see his face.
Then they had him tight; his hands were twisted behind his back; an arm
was flung round his neck; and another man, crouching, had his legs
embraced. He cried out once or twice.... The old man turned sick ... a
great rush of blood seemed to be hammering in his ears and dilating his
eyes.... He ran forward, tearing at the arm that was choking the
prisoner's throat, and screaming he knew not what.
And it was then that he knew for certain that this was his son.
CHAPTER VI
I
Robin drew a long breath as the door closed behind him. Then he went
forward to the table, and sat on it, swinging his feet, and looking
carefully and curiously round the room, so far as the darkness would
allow him; his eyes had had scarcely time yet to become accustomed to
the change from the brilliant sunshine outside to the gloom of the
prison. It was his first experience of prison, and, for the present, he
was more interested than subdued by it.
* * * * *
It seemed to him that a lifetime had passed since the early morning, up
in the hills, when he had attempted to escape by the bedroom, and had
been seized as he came out of the press. Of course, he had fought; it
was his right and his duty; and he had not known the utter uselessness
of it, in that guarded house. He had known nothing of what was going
forward. He had heard the entrance of the searchers below, and now and
again their footsteps.
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