He was in the act of seizing the balustrade, when shouts came from the door he had left. Worse still, he saw a faint spark of light below him, and heard the challenge of the sentry in the hall.
To have tried to escape by the passage would have meant the discovery of the way, for there was not time to get the stair open, so without hesitation, as he heard the alarm spreading, he dashed down the stairs, followed by the shouts of the two officers as other doors were opened, and the noise of gathering feet could be heard.
There was a sharp flash, a loud report, and Scarlett heard the thud in the wainscot beside him as he leaped the last half-dozen stairs, right on to the sentinel, who was driven backward by the force of the blow, while Scarlett darted across the hall, through the porch, and between two of the men stationed outside so closely that they touched him.
“Fire, fire!” roared a voice from the gallery, and matches were blown, and shots went whizzing after the fugitive, who was hard followed by half a dozen of the heavily armed men.
But the darkness held good, and Scarlett had the advantage of knowing every inch of the ground, every bush and clump which could give him shelter; and besides, he was dressed for running, his pursuers being heavily hindered by their thick garments, steel protections, and heavy boots.
Still the pursuit was kept up, and the piquets round, alarmed by the sounds of firing, began to close in.
It was a desperate game to play, but Scarlett played it. He made straight for the lake, and kept as near to its bank as he could for the overhanging trees, till he neared the eastern end, where, with the shouts of his pursuers ringing in his ears, he slowly lowered himself down by the steep rocky bank, stepped silently into the clear water, which looked terribly black and treacherous, waded out a short distance, with the water rapidly rising to his chest, then to his chin, and began swimming as easily as an otter for the opposite side.
It was a cold plunge, but Scarlett did not notice it in his excitement. His mind was too much taken up with endeavouring to swim steadily and quietly, so as not to betray his whereabouts by a splash.
As he swam, he could see lights moving about in the Hall, and he could tell by the shouts that his pursuers were not very far distant, while soon after he began to realise, with a profound feeling of satisfaction, that the men and their leaders had come to the conclusion that they had only to form a line across from the house down to the shore in two places to succeed in capturing him, for the lake would be an effectual bar to his escape in that direction.
“And all the time this is the high-road to freedom,” Scarlett said to himself, as he swam on, thinking of how long it would take him to reach the further side, and reaping now the advantage of having acquired an accomplishment in his earlier days, whose value he little appreciated then.