He then started toward the gateway leading to the park and glen. But the gardener and the groom swallowed their fear of steel, and made bravely to intercept him. He had confidence in his ability with the sword to deal with two men armed with cudgels. But he knew that his ultimate situation would be so much the worse if he killed either of these fellows. His thought, therefore, was to elude them by mere fleetness, or slightly to disable them. He soon abandoned the former hope, for at the first turn he tried they were swift to head him off. So he charged straight at the nearer, thrusting so fortunately as to prick the fellow’s shoulder, making him lower his cudgel with a howl. Everell now tried a similar lunge at the other cudgel-man, but the latter divined his purpose, and saved himself by tumbling over backward. The wounded man had instantly transferred his cudgel to his left hand, and now stood again in Everell’s way, while the fellow with the gun had come up to threaten him in the rear. Informed of this last danger by his hearing, the Jacobite sprang aside to the right in time to avoid a second blow. He turned swiftly upon the gun-wielder, whose fear of the sword made him thereupon flee toward the gateway. Everell’s three adversaries were now all in that part of the garden through which he had intended to escape. “This way!” cried Georgiana, from behind him; “and by the terrace!” Everell wheeled around and made a dash for the steps. His enemies were prompt to recover from their surprise and rush after him, the fallen man having speedily got on his feet again. But the clean-limbed Jacobite won to the steps by more than striking-distance. He thought to clear them in two bounds, then cross the terrace and gain the park. “Eh! the deuce!” exclaimed a voice at the head of the steps, as a dark form, backed by several others, appeared there. Everell, who had just set his foot on the middle step, checked himself at the risk of his balance, and leaped back. The newcomer, who had a sword in his hand, thrust downward at Everell, at the same time calling out, “The light, Caleb!” A lantern, which had been concealed under the coat of its bearer, now cast its rays over the scene from one side of the stair-top. Its help was more to those who arrived with it than to Everell, whose eyes had become used to the light shed by the stars alone. But he was now enabled to make sure that his new intercepter was Mr. Foxwell himself; that Rashleigh was at that gentleman’s side, with drawn sword; that the two London ladies stood close behind, peering forward and yet shrinking back, as curiosity disputed with fright; and that the man servant with the lantern carried also a coil of rope. All this was the observation of an instant. Even as he made it, Everell put his sword at guard, and looked a questioning defiance.