There was a rush now to escape. Down the passages fled the late assailants, pursued by the burgher guard, who, jealous of the honour of their town, injured by this foul attack upon a leading citizen, cut down all they came upon; while many who made their escape through the windows by which they had entered, were cut down or captured by the guard outside. The defenders of the stairs made no attempt at pursuit.
The instant the burgher guard entered the hall, Hugh and Joe threw down their bloodstained swords, and knelt beside Rupert.
"Ough!" sighed the latter, in a long breath.
"Thank God! He is not dead."
"Dead!" Rupert gasped, "not a bit of it; only almost trodden to death. One of my stout friends has been standing on me all the time, though I roared for mercy so that you might have heard me a mile off, had it not been for the din."
"But are you not stabbed, Master Rupert?"
"Stabbed! No; who should have stabbed me? One of you somehow hit me on the back, and down I went; but there is no stab."
"He had a dagger. I saw it flash," Hugh said, lifting Rupert to his feet.
"Had he?" Rupert said; "and who was he?
"If it was an enemy, it is your coat of mail has saved me," he continued, turning to Van Duyk. "I have never taken it off since. But how did he get behind me I wonder?