“Come in, sirs—come in!” call’d the old gentleman; “and follow your friend’s example. ’Twill be a compliment to make me mix another bowl when this is finish’d.” He stepped around the table to welcome them, still resting his hand on the lamp, as if for steadiness. I saw his eye twinkle as they shuffled in and stood around the chair where the Captain was seated.
“Jacques, bring glasses from the cupboard yonder! And, Delia, fetch up some chairs for our guests—no, sirs, pray do not move!”
He had waved his hand lightly to the door as he turned to us: and in an instant the intention as well as the bright success of this comedy flash’d upon me. There was now no one between us and the stairs, and as for Sir Deakin himself, he had already taken the step of putting the table’s width between him and his guests.
I touch’d the girl’s arm, and we made as if to fetch a couple of chairs that stood against the wainscot by the door. As we did so, Sir Deakin push’d the punch bowl forward under the Captain’s nose.
“Smell, sir,” he cried airily, “and report to your friends on the foretaste.”
Settle’s nose hung over the steaming compound. With a swift pass of the hand, the old gentleman caught up the lamp and had shaken a drop of burning oil into the bowl. A great blaze leap’d to the ceiling. There was a howl—a scream of pain; and as I push’d Mistress Delia through the doorway and out to the head of the stairs, I caught a backward glimpse of Sir Deakin rushing after us, with one of the stoutest among the robbers at his heels.
“Downstairs, for your life!” I whisper’d to the girl, and turning, as her father tumbled past me, let his pursuer run on my sword, as on a spit. At the same instant, another blade pass’d through the fellow transversely, and Jacques stood beside me, with his back to the lintel.
As we pull’d our swords out and the man dropp’d, I had a brief view into the room, where now the blazing liquid ran off the table in a stream. Settle, stamping with agony, had his palms press’d against his scorch’d eyelids. The fat landlord, in trying to beat out the flames, had increased them by upsetting two bottles of aqua vitae, and was dancing about with three fingers in his mouth. The rest stood for the most part dumbfounder’d: but Black Dick had his pistol lifted.
Jacques and I sprang out for the landing and round the doorway. Between the flash and the report I felt a sudden scrape, as of a red-hot wire, across my left thigh and just above the knee.
“Tenez, camarade,” said Jacques’ voice in my ear; “a moi la porte—a vous le maitre, la-bas:” and he pointed down the staircase, where, by the glare of the conflagration that beat past us, I saw the figures of Sir Deakin and his daughter standing.