The Merry England of Charles II—An old man the sole custodian of the Crown Jewels—The Jewels in the Martin Tower—Colonel Blood’s plans—His disguise as a parson—Mrs. Blood is seized with “a qualme upon her stomack”—Parson Blood’s gratitude and present of gloves—A match arranged with old Edward’s daughter—The pious parson at dinner—Blood removes the pistols—An early call—The lovers to meet—Mr. Edwards stunned, gagged, and bound—The Crown bashed in and placed in a bag—The Orb and Sceptre—A surprise arrival from Flanders—In hot pursuit—The Captain of the Guard nearly killed in error—The burglars fight their way out—Reach the Iron Gate where horses awaited them—Captured—The Crown saved—King Charles rewards Colonel Blood. THE Crown Jewels have been through many vicissitudes, and have chanced across many adventures. They have been in the midst of the fiercest and most historic battles, and they have lain inglorious in the shop of the pawnbroker. But only once have they been burglariously removed, and that in the open day, and from the midst of the strongest fortress in England. [Illustration: COLONEL BLOOD WHO ATTEMPTED TO STEAL THE CROWN AND ORB IN THE REIGN OF CHARLES II (_From the National Portrait Gallery_)] This happened in the jovial reign of Charles II when, led by a prince who drank the wine of life to the full, the people of England were out to live the free and joyous life, after the horrors of civil war and the equally distasteful restraints of the Cromwellian era. England was Merry England again, and black shadows were put right behind the eastern horizon. Officials, even those the most responsible, caught the happy vein, and drowned the dismal past in flowing bowls of rich red wine. Amidst all this joyful living, who cared to be reminded of the chains on body and soul and conscience of the prim pernicious Puritans? That anybody would dream of attempting to steal the Crown of the beloved sovereign never occurred to the most imaginative visionary. It might be left all day and all night unguarded on the steps of St. Paul’s, and no one would touch it. In the Tower of London it was surely safe enough, without throwing extra guard duties on the garrison to supply even a single sentry. Such was the spirit and the general feeling in the air, which left the Crown Jewels in sole custody of one old man, whose age was well past the allotted span.