“There was, if so you choose to consider him, but he is gone. He left us this morning, and when you arrived he was far on his way.” “Why did you not say so at once?” “That he might be farther on his way.” “Ah-h!” The man smiled. “Well, miss, we’ll search the place, anyhow. There may be other things to learn, and we’ll take your maid as a punishment to you for defying his Majesty’s servants. We will leave your loyal man to your tender mercies.” Lettice laid her hand on Lutie’s shoulder. “I’d rather you’d leave the maid, sir. It seems to me the man is more devoted to your cause than mine.” “Oh, Jubal, save me, save me!” Lutie wailed. “Stop that noise,” said the captain, sternly. “Here, boy, I want you. We’ll have a lark, my men. The man shall fight for the maid. If he puts up a good fight, we will let her go, and if he doesn’t, we will take her. Give him a sword, Clarke. We’ll have fair play.” But as soon as Jubal saw the sword and felt himself freed from the grasp of his captor’s hand on his shoulder, with one wild yell, he rushed out pell-mell, head over heels, every soldier after him. “Now’s your chance,” cried Lettice, to the terrified Lutie. “Run, Lutie, run to the attic. I’ll hide you.” And in the same place that had offered shelter to her brother a few days before, she hid the girl, and then she ran lightly downstairs. She reached her room before the soldiers returned, and was busied with her packing when they again appeared, laughing and shouting. “The fellow had nimble heels,” said the captain. “He got away, and I venture to say he’ll not stop this side of Baltimore, unless Clarke catches him, for he is still in pursuit. I’ve told him he can have him if he catches him, and Steele, here, will take the maid. Where is she?” “That you will have to find out for yourselves,” returned Lettice, dauntlessly. “Aha, you refuse to tell? What shall we do about it, Steele? Shall we capture the mistress instead? We might take her a short trip to Kent Island for her health, eh, Steele?” “Divil a bit, will ye,” cried a voice at the door. “Ye murtherin’ spalpeens, ye’ll take Miss Lettice, will ye? Ye’ll take this!” Then crying, “Come on, bhys!” Pat Flynn, laying about him with cudgel and sword, so lustily began his defence of the girl, that in a moment one man was disabled and the others had fled, pursued by Pat with his wild Irish yell and his shouts of: “Come on, bhys, we’ll not lave the villyuns a whole hair to split. Come on, the whole pack of ye!” Lettice, seeing that the “bhys” existed wholly in Pat’s imagination, speeded his rescue by whistling up the dogs and setting them on the fleeing men who, with dogs worrying them, an Irishman’s shillalah setting their heads buzzing, at last got off the place, vowing vengeance. “We’ve no time to lose,” said Pat. “They’ll like be on us again as soon as they can get rayinfoorcemints. We’ll have to get out purty quick, Miss Letty. Where is Miss Betty?”