Presently, finding a little of the spirit of strength and defiance returning to him, he set to tramping the room again, feebly at first, but by and by with an increase of vigour. For an hour he may have walked, when, without forespeech or warning, the door was flung open and there quickly entered Fern and Brander, who shut themselves in and stood by the threshold, facing the prisoner. Both men were braced and accoutred as if for some immediate business of violence. Into belts drawn about their waists were stuck murderous-looking knives; pistol-butts stood from their skirt-pockets, and each had a flint-lock slung across his shoulders. For the rest they were the suave and the brutal, and a couple of as soulless ruffians as ever fouled the sunlight. There was to be no more temporizing, it seemed; and the white-haired leader spoke up at once. “We would ask your decision, Mr. Tuke,” he said. The gentleman, his eyes blazing contempt, had paused opposite the two, as if he questioned a very daring intrusion. “What do you want of me?” said he. “The answer is simple. We demand our own--a ruby that goes by the name of the ‘Lake of Wine.’” “I have no such ruby in my possession.” “Tut, sir, tut; the prevarication is unworthy of you. Let us say, then, the skull that contains it.” “The skull!” “Mr. Tuke, Mr. Tuke, this will not serve your purpose. We have direct evidence of the truth, sir, and that from more than one source.” “You have, have you?” “--And I am free to advise you, sir, to refrain for the future from discussing with your friends such very private affairs on the public road.” To the unfortunate prisoner all in a moment came a clap of revelation. “We were overheard?” “Ah-ha! You give yourself away.” “There was more said--and ’twas that evening the ‘First Inn’ was fired.” Some conscious sign passed between the rogues at his words. Tuke sprang at them, actually gnashing his teeth. “I guessed it, you foul-blooded dogs! and may God burn your hearts for that wanton ruin of a poor maid!” They had seized him and forced him back struggling and helpless. The beast was awake in Fern. His eyes opened bloodshot, his lip was lifted; he snapped out his knife and held it like a butcher. “You Jack-a-dandy!” he screamed in a woman’s voice--“for a word I’d rip you like a pig!” He stamped on the floor. “Take your choice, or go piecemeal to hell. An ear and a nose and a lip for the stone, and if they don’t serve, every member of your cursed carcass for token to the fat wench I gave you for mistress.” Tuke wrenched himself free, and, butting with his shoulder, flung himself at the scoundrel with all his force. He felt himself spun round--a fiery tooth crossed his wrist, and he stumbled and went his length on the floor. Looking up as he lay, momentarily expecting to feel the deadlier plunge of the blade that had already slashed at him, he saw to his surprise Fern raving and struggling in the grasp of his more powerful fellow-rogue.