The third time he was disturbed by the sound of angry voices. There was some quarreling going on in the kitchen of the Green Dragon. The voices became louder. There was a clatter of stools and a crash of glasses.
"You are a pack of lying gypsies!" sang out some one. "You know well you didn't pay the missus!"
"Go for him! go for him!" was the cry.
Then the parlor door was flung open and Mrs. Benbow rushed in. "Oh!" she cried, "those gypsy men are killing the carpenter!"
Hieronymus Howard rushed into the kitchen, and threw himself into the midst of the contest. Three powerful tramps were kicking a figure prostrate on the ground. One other man, Mr. Greaves, the blacksmith, was trying in vain to defend his comrade. He had no chance against these gypsy fellows, and though he fought like a lion, his strength was, of course, nothing against theirs. Old John of the one leg had been knocked over, and was picking himself up with difficulty. Everything depended on the promptness of the stranger. He was nothing of a warrior, this Hieronymus Howard; he was just a quiet student, who knew how to tussle with Greek roots rather than with English tramps. But he threw himself upon the gypsies, fought hand to hand with them, was blinded with blows, nearly trampled beneath their feet, all but crushed against the wall. Now he thrust them back. Now they pressed on him afresh. Now the blacksmith, with desperate effort, attacked them again. Now the carpenter, bruised and battered, but wild for revenge, dragged himself from the floor, and aimed a blow at the third gypsy's head. He fell. Then after a short, sharp contest, the other two gypsies were driven to the door, which Mrs. Benbow had opened wide, and were thrust out. The door was bolted safely.
But they had bolted one gypsy in with them. When they returned to the kitchen they found him waiting for them. He had recovered himself.
Mrs. Benbow raised a cry of terror. She had thought herself safe in her castle. The carpenter and the blacksmith were past fighting. Hieronymus Howard gazed placidly at the great tramp.
"I am sorry we had forgotten you," he said courteously. "Perhaps you will oblige us by following your comrades. I will open the door for you. I think we are all rather tired--aren't we? So perhaps you will go at once."
The man gazed sheepishly at him, and then followed him. Hieronymus Howard opened the door.
"Good-evening to you," he said.