"Why didn't you give up, then, like a man?" whined his sympathising companion, who was now hastily secured by two of the men-servants. "The gent wouldn't have hurt yer, if yer had only give up when he arst. There, don't pull a cove about like that, and yer needn't tie so tight. I ain't agoin' to run away so as to get shot, I can tell you." "Lift the other up," said Sir Murray, hoarsely; when the man was found to be bleeding profusely, though evidently not wounded in a vital spot. "You are not hurt, Murray?" whispered a voice at his ear just then, and the baronet turned to find Lady Gernon anxiously scanning his face. "No; not dead yet," he said, brutally. "Go to your own room." Lady Gernon turned away with a weary sigh, and Sir Murray stood guard over his prisoners, when a shudder of terror ran through the party assembled; for, faintly heard, apparently from somewhere in the grounds, came what sounded like a wild appeal for help. Book 1, Chapter XXVIII. A RIVAL EMBRACE. Sir Murray Gernon was right in his surmise, for when McCray, eager to secure the person of his supposed rival, hurried across the drawing-room, and in the darkness made a bound to where he had seen the lighted match fade out, his enemy had made a slight movement, so that he failed to obtain a good hold; and in the brief struggle which ensued close to the fireplace, McCray was thrown heavily upon the floor, and his adversary dashed through the drawing-room out into the hall, striking down Sir Murray in his effort to reach the library. But McCray was after him directly, and had no hesitation in leaving his master where he, too, had knocked him down; while, following the burglars example, he leaped, in his excitement, right through the broken window. "Oh, my best pelargoniums!" groaned the gardener, as he picked himself up, after coming down crash into a flower-bed beneath the window. "Ye shall pay for this, though, Maister Gurdon, or my name's not Sandy McCray!" And then, favoured by a break in the clouds, he caught sight of Gurdon running rapidly towards the bridge. "Ye'll not get there first, laddie," muttered the Scot, as, exerting all his powers, he dashed over the lawn, to cut off his quarry's retreat in that direction; and being the lustier man of the two, he soon had the satisfaction of seeing his foe double, and run along the brink of the lake, as if to get round the house; for it was growing each moment lighter, the wind springing up, and sweeping the heavy curtain of clouds from the face of the heavens. "If ye think I canna rin ye doon, Jock Gurdon," muttered McCray, "ye're making a meestake. I'll have ye, if I rin for a week!" He pressed on, gaining so fast upon the burglar, that he once more doubled, and dodging round a thick plantation of shrubs, McCray was, for a minute, thrown off the scent; but his shrewd Scottish nature stood him in good stead.