The patroon had the start of me by five hundred yards. Our horses were an even match for swiftness, but the patroon rode lighter in body. For all that, he gained like a snail. He thundered across the Kissing Bridge. Before the echo of his steps died away the bridge was rocking beneath me. The city gate stood open. A guard challenged, but he sprang back to avoid a wide sweep of the patroon’s sword. It was straight away now along Broadway to the fort. I could hear him shouting at the top of his voice as he drew near: “What ho; Van Volkenberg! Men of the Red Band! Open the gate. Van Volkenberg, Van Volkenberg, Van Volkenberg!” But the rallying cry of the Red Band was not answered. The patroon halted before the gate, grinding his teeth in rage. “What ho!” I cried, from behind, mocking his voice. “Open the gate. Van Volkenberg! The Red Band is all asleep,” I continued, addressing him. “They sleep late to-day in irons. Yield, in the name of Bellamont.” Just as I reached the point where he had stopped, he drew his pistol and fired. My horse received the ball in his breast and stumbled headlong, throwing me upon the ground. We were so close, I touched the patroon’s horse when I went down. For a moment I lay stunned. Then I gradually heard the clattering of hoofs. I rose with difficulty just in time to see Van Volkenberg dash down Petticoat Lane and turn northward through the city. By this time the rest of our party rode up. They had been so encumbered with the priest, who had purposely tried to hold them back from joining in the pursuit, that they were too late to be of any use in stopping the patroon. When they arrived, he must have been at least through the gate, or well on his way north to the Hanging Rock. Lady Marmaduke often used to rail against the Earl because he was forever on the wait for a better opportunity to turn up. My short experience of him seemed to prove otherwise. For all that, she was not so far wrong. I found, when I came to know him better, that he was not prone to action when he had time for deliberation. But when a thing had to be done in short order, he did it with a speed and decision that rivaled the patroon. On the day of Jacques’ arrest, however, Bellamont was mad with prudence. Both Lady Marmaduke and I urged him with all our power to capture the patroon at once. Give him a few hours and he might yet muster a large enough band to endanger the city in its present state. There were a few men still left at the manor-house, and the ships in the bay were mostly manned with fighting men. Bellamont, however, would not agree with us. He was afraid to take decisive action. “I have still one company,” he said. “They can defend the fort against a host. But if I send them, or even a part of them to the Hanging Rock, I shall not be able to guard the prisoners I have already taken. And a few men can defend the manor-house as well as I can defend the fort. The manor-house is almost a castle in its position.”