A shower of stones compelled the keeper of the jail to retire.

Gabriel Varden was urged by blows, by offers of reward, and by threats
of instant death to do the office the rioters required of him, and all
in vain. He was knocked down, was up again, buffeting with a score of
them. He had never loved his life so well as then, but nothing could
move him.

The cry was raised, "You lose time. Remember the prisoners! Remember
Barnaby!" And the crowd left the locksmith, to gather fuel, for an
entrance was to be forced by fire. Furniture from the prison lodge was
piled up in a monstrous heap and set blazing, oil was poured on, and at
last the great gate yielded to the flames. It settled deeper in the
red-hot cinders, tottered, and was down.

Hugh leaped upon the blazing heap, and dashed into the jail. The hangman
followed. And then so many rushed upon their track that the fire got
trodden down. There was no need of it now, for, inside and out, the
prison was soon in flames.

Barnaby and his father were quickly released, and passed from hand to
hand into the street. Soon all the wretched inmates of the jail were
free, except four condemned to die whom Dennis kept under guard. And
these Hugh roughly insisted on liberating, to the sullen anger of the
hangman.

"You won't let these men alone, and leave 'em to me? You've no respect
for nothing, haven't you?" said Dennis, and with a scowl he disappeared.