Soon at the outer gate was heard the thunder of sledge-hammers and crows. It was being forced by the smugglers. Mac-Guffog and his wife had already fled, but the underlings delivered the keys, and the prisoners were soon rejoicing in their liberty. In the confusion, four or five of the principal actors entered the cell of Bertram. "Der deyvil," exclaimed the leader, "here's our mark!" Two of them accordingly seized Bertram and hurried him along. One of them, however, whispered in his ear to make no resistance for the present--also bidding Dinmont over his shoulder to follow his friend quietly and help when the time came. Bertram found himself dragged along passages, through the courtyard, and finally out into the narrow street, where, in the crowd and confusion, the smugglers became somewhat separated from each other. The sound of cavalry approaching rapidly made itself heard. "Hagel and wetter!" cried the leader, no other than Hatteraick himself, "what is that? Keep together--look to the prisoner!" But, for all that, the two who held Bertram were left last of the party. The crowd began to break, rushing this way and that. Shots were fired, and above the press the broadswords of the dragoons were seen to glitter, flashing over the heads of the rioters. "Now," whispered the man who had before advised Bertram to be quiet, "shake off that fellow and follow me." Bertram easily did so, and his left-hand captor, attempting to draw a pistol, was instantly knocked senseless by the huge fist of Dandie Dinmont. "Now, follow quick!" said the first, diving at the word into a dirty and narrow lane. There was no pursuit. Mr. Mac-Morlan and the soldiers had appeared in the nick of time. The smugglers had enough to do to provide for their own safety. At the end of the lane they found a post-chaise with four horses. "Are you here, in God's name?" cried their guide. "Ay, troth am I," said Jock Jabos; "and I wish I were ony gate else!" The guide opened the carriage door. "Get in," he said to Bertram, "and remember your promise to the gipsy wife!" Through the windows of the coach Dinmont and he could see the village of Portanferry, and indeed the whole landscape, brilliantly lighted by a tall column of light. The flames had caught the stores of spirits kept in the custom-house. But soon the carriage turned sharply through dark woods at the top speed of the horses, and, after a long journey, finally drew up in front of a mansion, in the windows of which lights still burned, in spite of the lateness of the hour. * * * * * The listening children remained breathless as I paused. I had meant this to be the end of my tale, but I saw at once that no excuse would be held valid for such a shameful dereliction of duty. "Go on--go on," they cried; "where was the house and what happened?" "I know!" said Sweetheart; "it was the house of Julia Mannering, and her lover--"