Filson turned pale, but made a pass, which was narrowly avoided. Everell gave a second lunge, and this time the weapon pierced the somewhat extended auricular shell. “Help! help, Mr. Foxwell!” shouted Filson, clapping one hand to the injured ear, but still wielding his sword against Everell. “Call for help to those who buy letters from you, cur,” replied Foxwell, scarce looking up from his task of binding his arm with a handkerchief, a business performed by his left hand with the aid of his teeth. Georgiana had looked an offer of assistance, which her uncle had repelled. Her attention instantly returned to her lover. On hearing Foxwell’s answer, Filson shrank back; but Everell pressed him close, parried a desperate lunge, and sent a swift long thrust for the region of the heart. Filson dropped like a log, and lay as still as one, a result somewhat unexpected by Everell, to whom the resistance had seemed only that of the man’s loose coat. “Come!” cried Everell, and, while Georgiana hastened to his side, he added to her uncle: “All that I said awhile ago still holds true. I wish you good night.” He then led Georgiana around the prostrate body of Filson, and through the doorway. Just outside in the hallway stood Joseph and the footman, who had been attracted by the noise to peer into the room, which as yet they dared not re-enter. Everell waved them aside with his sword, and the lovers quickly passed. The two men, not knowing what to do, again looked into the room, Joseph expectant of his master’s orders, and the footman wondering at the disappearance of Thornby. Nobody else was in the hall, and Everell and Georgiana were in a moment at the door opposite that by which they had entered the house. It was not fastened. Throwing it open, Everell found that he was right in what, from his present knowledge of the roads and gates, he had assumed,—namely, that Foxwell’s horses were waiting at this entrance. They were in charge of a boy who evidently belonged to Thornby Hall, perhaps to the gate-lodge. On the door-step was a lantern. Everell sheathed his sword, and said, quietly, to the boy: “We are to use Mr. Foxwell’s horses, my good lad.” He coolly helped Georgiana into the saddle, mounted the other horse, and bade the boy hand him the lantern. The lad, ignorant of Foxwell’s purposes and of the fighting in the house, and obedient by habit, complied. “Now run before, and you shall receive a crown at the gate,” said Everell, grasping Georgiana’s rein and his own. He was at the same time wondering to what part of the house or vicinity the clerk had gone for his forces. He trusted that Foxwell would now see his interest in passively aiding the flight, and would find means to keep Joseph and Thornby’s servant from interfering or giving alarm.