"He is gagged," said William; "I will unloose him." For a few moments the rescued man was well-nigh unconscious through the pain and suffering he had undergone. Then the well-known voices of his friends the twins fell upon his ears like heavenly music, and he spake. "Brothers," he said, "will you cut my bonds?" "By Heaven!" cried William, "_it is_ Diego. Oh, thank God!" Then they cut his bonds, and the young Spaniard rose with great difficulty, so benumbed were his limbs. "Oh! my brothers," he cried, seizing their hands, "you have risked your lives to save mine, and Heaven has blessed your noble efforts; henceforth we are more than friends—we are brothers in heart and soul while life lasts. "Ah! I see that you are both wounded—you have shed your blood to save my life! How shall I thank you enough? Oh, may Heaven reward you! But come, let me examine your wounds; it is my turn now to turn rescuer." Ere Diego could carry out his intention, William sank suddenly into the bottom of the boat; he had fainted from loss of blood. A moment later Ralph lay beside him from like cause. "Oh, my brothers!" cried Diego in agonizing tones, "you will die before I can find succour for you; my poor life were not worth so great a sacrifice!" His first thought was to seize the oars and strive to reach Greenwich— the lights of the town were now plainly visible. Or he would strive to stanch their gaping wounds, and leave the boat to be borne forward by the rapid tide. While he thus hesitated, a sudden light appeared on the surface of the river, and his ears caught the welcome sound of the oars of a practised crew. It was a Queen's guardship, and as it rapidly neared the wherry Don Diego uttered a loud shout for help. His appeal found instant and joyous response, for on board that ship were his father and Lord Surrey. A Chelsea boatman had witnessed his capture, and had instantly given the alarm. Yet so long a time had it taken before the guardship at Whitehall wharf could be sent in pursuit of the pirates, that its aid would have been too late, but for the Heaven-sent interposition of the twins. The guardship rapidly drew alongside the wherry, and in a few minutes the wounded men and Diego were taken on board. With tender care William and Ralph were carried into the little cabin, and a ship's surgeon made immediate examination of their injuries. To the joy of Diego, he reported that though both the brothers were sorely lacerated, yet no desperate injury had been inflicted—they had lost much blood, and were thereby rendered unconscious; a few days' careful nursing was all that was required. The guardship soon reached Whitehall, and there, litters having been procured for the brothers, they were forthwith conveyed to their lodgings in Gray's Inn. Nor did Don Diego leave them till he had seen them safely consigned to the care of Miss Susan Jefferay, who had lately come to town from Chiddingly Place on a visit to her uncle, Sir John.