Scarcely had the intrepid nobleman and the herculean porter closed together, when the Doctor, attired in his dressing-gown and slippers, and with his cotton night-cap on his head, appeared at the bottom of the stairs, holding a chamber-candle in his hand.
At the same instant Sir Gilbert Heathcote had succeeded in opening the front door; and the morning breeze poured into the hall, in a manner doubtless highly refreshing to the porter, who, be it remembered, had nothing on but his shirt—his cap having fallen off in the conflict which he had maintained with the baronet in the first instance.
Two of the discomfited keepers, animated by the presence of the Doctor—or perhaps rendered ashamed of their pusillanimity—now returned to the attack upon Trevelyan, who was just on the point of hurling the porter to the ground. But Sir Gilbert, having made the entrance free, rushed back to help his friend; and the contest was again renewed with desperate energy,—the other two keepers, who had by this time recovered their senses, joining in the struggle.
And hard would it have gone with Trevelyan and the baronet against such odds, had not two new-comers suddenly appeared upon the scene.
For, the front door standing wide open, and the lamp being alight in the hall, two gentlemen who were passing by the house at the time beheld the extraordinary proceedings that were taking place within; and the foremost, perceiving in an instant that the odds were two to five,—namely, Trevelyan and the baronet against the four keepers and the porter,—exclaimed at the top of a stentorian voice, “Be Jasus! Frank, and we’ll just give a helping hand to the waker side!”
With these words, the redoubtable Captain O’Blunderbuss—nerved with all the courage attributed by Sir Walter Scott to Lord Marmion—“plunged into the fight.”
Or, in less poetical language, he darted into the hall—levelled the herculean porter with a well-directed blow between the eyes—and sent a couple of keepers sprawling over the aforesaid porter in an instant.
Frank Curtis, having imbibed just sufficient poteen to subdue his habitual cowardice and arm him with the bastard though not the less effectual valour which strong drink inspires, unhesitatingly followed the example of his gallant leader, and bore his part in the fray; so that in less than a minute a complete diversion was effected in favour of Lord William Trevelyan and Sir Gilbert Heathcote, the enemy being utterly discomfited.
“Villains! murderers! robbers!” shouted the infuriate Doctor, as loud as he could bawl; and then the screams and shrieks of the affrighted female servants were heard echoing from the stairs and landing-places.
“Let us depart!” cried Lord William Trevelyan; and, in a very few moments, he pushed the baronet, the captain, and Frank Curtis, out of the front door,—he himself pausing only for a single second to secure the keys.