I dispatched all the men but three to the roof, bidding them hold the trap open for the final retreat. Hardly were they gone when there resounded a shattering blow upon the door. With my three men I stood upon the stairway, commending myself to God, and presently the door fell in before the redoubled assaults of a ram which the enemy had contrived to make, and there burst upon us Rory Mac Shane and a cluster of his minions. They were beset by so fierce a hail of stones from above that they gave back, but returned directly, bearing the shield of wood which we had aforetime proved invulnerable. Little by little the vehemency of their onset drove us back from one step to another. One of my Irishmen gasped out his life as a musket shot channelled his lungs. I heard my good Stubbs groan, and knew by and by that a dart had transfixed his arm. In that extremity I looked for Sergeant Death to lay his peremptory arrest upon me; but on a sudden, from above, I heard my lady’s voice cry with a ringing gladness that help was at hand. Whether the adversary understood her words I know not, but their import was not to be mistaken. Their fierce shouts sank to a sudden stillness; their ascent was stayed; and from below there rose the cries of men stricken with astonishment and fear. And as our near opponents halted in the pause of irresolution, I took a leap, and lighting full upon their wooden shield, dashed it and the men beneath pell-mell to the landing. And Rory Mac Shane, casting up his arms when he found himself staggering backward, bared his great breast to the unchecked thrust of my sword, which passing clean through him bored a passage for his soul. *VIII* "How now, my bully rook!" sang a well-remembered bluff voice in my ear some while after, for my ill-bound wound had bled afresh, and I had lain as one dead. "What! hast cheated man’s last enemy yet once again?" [Illustration: "HOW NOW, MY BULLY ROOK!"] And lifting my eyes I beheld the round ruby countenance of my comrade Toby Caulfeild, that commanded a troop of horse in the army of the Lord Deputy. "All’s well?" I asked him feebly. "All’s well that ends well," said he, "though I misdoubt the end’s not yet." "My Lady Sheila?" I said. "Ah yes, I have heard the name," said he drily. "For a good hour you have done nothing but prattle of Sheilas and Hebes, and Hercules and roarers, mingling Christian and heathen in such sort that my very ears blushed to hear you." "What is done?" said I. "Sundry things that cannot be undone," said he, "namely, many ruffians sent to their account, many more so slashed and carved that all the surgeons in Christendom could not make of them aught but patchwork. We came in time to finish your work, my Chris, but only just in time." "I heard the lark singing," said I, wandering somewhat in my wits.