And the Polander Rode behind them patiently, much Remarked by the passers-by for his foreign air and Great Stature, and so they came to the _Mall_ where there was a goodly number of People. And one of Them, who was a Young Man with a Mirror in his hat, Pranking on a Sizeable Horse, the Captain stopped and, Saying he was new come to _London_ and Desirous of seeing the Notables, asked if Esquire Thynne had yet passed? The Englishman, making out this request with some difficulty from the Swedelander’s strange accent, answered at length Courteously that Mr. Thynne was Driving Out with His Grace of Monmouth, and would be coming from _Northumberland House_, where they had made a visit, anon, _Northumberland House_ being nearly at the End of the _Mall_, on the river at _Charing Cross_. So they waited and the Sun mounted the Snow Clouds pleasantly but it was yet scarcely light, and the Bells of the Big Churches near by sounded in their first Ringing. And after a few minutes a Coach and four Horses came swinging on its Leathers with Six Servants Riding at the Sides and Vratz knew the colours. Before came a Fellow with a Flambeau; the Captain rode Past him and Caught the Reins of the Foremost horses, stopping the coach, and Stern cried out to the Polander: “Shoot!” at the same time Threatening the Coachman. Like one in a Stupour the Polander rode round to the Side of the Coach, and saw the Handsome Face of an _Englishman_ with Brown Eyes looking out of the window. “Shoot!” cried Captain Vratz. And the Polander raised his Blunderbuss and Fired into the lace-covered Bosom of Esquire Thynne. “_Damn_ your _Foreign_ tricks, I’m murdered!” cried the _Englishman_; he fell back on the Seat of the Coach and the Polander Turned and Galloped away up _St. James Street_ and _Alban Street_ with the Captain and Stern after him; and the Servant with the Flambeau put a Pursuit on them as far as the _Haymarket_, then could go no Further; but the Polander had Cast away his Blunderbuss and that the Servant Caught up and carried back to the _Mall_, where was a Great Press and Mr. Thynne Dying with three bullets in him and the People saying how his Grace of Monmouth had but just left the coach and what a stroke that was, for he might have been Murdered else. And the three rode to my Lord’s Lodgings in _St. Martin’s Lane_ and asked for him. “For it may be Well,” said the Captain, “that we ask my Lord to let us Lie at the _Swedish Resident’s_—” But when they answered his knock he was told that the Count had gone early that Morning to Windsor wearing a Black Periwig and in a Coat he had borrowed of a Servant. At hearing this news the Captain came back with a Look of Death in his face. “If he hath Fled to Gravesend—” he said, and They All went Back to the _Black Bull_ and Mounted to the Captain’s Chamber and sat Still and Silly, looking at each other. “We have trusted _You_,” said Stern, “and there is your Word to it that we are Safe.”