She was breathless and panting; this could not last. Even now the third man had got himself free of the cloak, and was creeping on her with it held in his hand. She guessed he meant to catch at her blade through it, and her heart sank. She thrust shrewdly at the man before her, and staggered under a blow from a cudgel on her left. She was nearly spent, and she knew that a few moments more must end it.
Then, from a little way down the street came a shout, and the sound of a man running. “Hold them, lad, I’m with you!” cried the newcomer, and Prudence recognised the voice of Mr Belfort.
He fell upon her assailants from the rear, and there was swift and bloody work done. With a howl the man Prudence had first wounded went running off down the street, one hand clipped to his shoulder. His flight was a signal for the other two to follow suit. In another minute the street was empty, save for Prudence and the Honourable Charles.
Mr Belfort leaned panting on his sword, and laughed hugely. “Gad, see ’em run!” he said. “Hey, are you hurt, lad?”
Prudence was leaning against the wall, dizzy and shaken. The shoulder which had sustained the blow from the cudgel ached sickeningly. With an effort she stood upright. “Naught. A blow on the shoulder, no more.” She swayed, but mastered the threatened faintness, and bent to pick up her cloak. Her hand shook slightly as she wiped her sword in its folds, but she managed to smile. “I have — to thank you — for your prompt assistance,” she said, trying to get her breath. “I rather thought I was sped.”
“Ay, three to one, blister them,” nodded Mr Belfort. “But white-livered curs, ’pon my soul. Not an ounce of fight in ’em. Here, take my arm.”
Prudence leaned gratefully on it. “Just a momentary breathlessness,” she said. “I am well enough now.”
“Gad, it must have been a nasty blow!” said Mr Belfort. “You are shaken to bits, man. Come home with me; my lodging is nearer than yours.”
“No, no, I thank you!” Prudence said earnestly. “The blow — struck an old wound. I hardly heed it now.”
“Tare an’ ’ouns, but that’s bad!” cried Mr Belfort. “Really, my dear fellow, you must come to my place and let me look to it.”