"Yes; but I should advise you to be quick," said Mellersh. "Hang it, man, they'll shoot you for this. What's to be done, Dick? Look here, Denville, can't you knock one of us down, take a suit of plain clothes and make off. There's twenty pounds on the chimney-piece yonder." "Thank you, sir, thank you," said Fred, smiling sadly; "but I'm not going to run. I shall give myself up." "No, no," cried Linnell excitedly. "For heaven's sake don't do that, man. There's trouble enough in your home. You'll break her heart." Fred Denville swung round in an instant, and caught Linnell's hands in a strong grip. "Then you do love her," he cried, his voice quivering. "My little true-hearted, suffering darling. Oh, man, man, man, don't let wretched shadows stand between you now. I know everything, and how you have been ready to believe all kinds of unhappy scandals about the best girl who ever lived. Look here--no, don't go, Colonel; you've heard the beginning, you may as well hear the rest. It came out like a flash. Stop now, and hear me, both of you. Ours is an unhappy family; I've been a wild, foolish scamp: my father lies in prison under a false charge; he is innocent. I know that such a family is not one that a gentleman would seek to enter, save under exceptional circumstances; but I've watched you, Richard Linnell, and I know you loved my sister, and I know that she never had a thought save for you." Linnell clenched his hands, compressed his lips, and began to pace the room. "You, Colonel Mellersh, are a bit of a cynic; you don't believe in women, but you are mistaken here." "What do you wish me to do?" said Linnell hoarsely. "To do? She is almost friendless, broken-hearted, and has not a strong true hand to take hers, a loyal heart who will stand by her against the world. Richard Linnell, my poor sister is suffering and in pain, and a great trouble is coming upon her that will not balance the joyful news she will soon hear." "Then, why not make a dash for it, man, while you have time?" cried Mellersh. "Because I shall give myself up to the civil authorities, sir; that is all. Mr Linnell, remember what I have said. Good-bye." "Too late!" cried Mellersh, as a tramping was heard, and Sir Matthew Bray, a sergeant, and half a dozen dragoons marched quickly up. Fred Denville's whole manner had changed. He dashed to the front. There was no escape there, and the soldiers were already in the hall. Rushing to the back window he threw it up, but it moved stiffly, and before he had it well raised, the picket was in the room. "Surrender!" cried the sergeant. "Halt, or I fire." For answer Fred Denville rose on the sill and leaped down into the garden, a good dozen feet, and ran swiftly for the wall at the bottom.