"Phew!" he muttered, wiping his forehead, "I've played high in my time, but never for such stakes as these. Heaven help me! what a hand I held, and God forgive me, but how I played it!"
CHAPTER XXII
Captain Protheroe walked on rapidly across the dark field-path which led to the little hamlet of Mallet. It was already late, and he did not wish to keep his friends in suspense longer than was needful.
Suddenly he paused, as he became aware of a confused clamour of sounds proceeding from the direction in which, he was going, but only for a moment, then with a sudden misgiving he commenced to run rapidly forward through the darkness.
The cottage where the fugitives were to await him lay on the outskirts of the hamlet, separated from the cluster of other cottages by some fields, and the sounds, now becoming more distinct, came from that direction.
A confused murmur of voices met his ears, punctuated by a succession of heavy blows of musket-butts (so he rightly guessed) upon the cottage door; then followed the crash of a door falling, more shouting, above which he could distinguish a voice raised loud in authority, and then the clash of two encountering swords.
A moment later he reached the gateway of the croft within which the cottage stood.
There he found a group of peasants, held in check, in spite of much shouting and menacing gestures, by a small body of mounted troopers. Nearer the cottage were some unmounted men, those evidently who had been responsible for the attack upon the door, one or two of whom carried lanterns, and by the combined light this afforded, and that which streamed from the dismantled doorway, there was revealed to Captain Protheroe the incident which formed the central feature of the picture.
At the doorway of the cottage two men were fighting. The swordsman with his back to the doorway was Sir Ralph. With white set face, and his breath coming in quick gasps, 'twas clear he was sore pressed, and wellnigh spent.
His opponent, who was slowly but surely driving him to retreat into the passage-way, was a small, dapper little man, in the uniform of an officer of the King's troops. He fought with a cool precision, and ever and anon as the fight proceeded, he exclaimed admiringly: