With drunken gravity the constable drew his truncheon and came towards me. I was loth, great as the danger was, to use my weapons, for though I had been trained to the use of both, I had never had occasion to defend myself by them before. In this case my hesitation almost led to my undoing, for the feel of the truncheon having evidently given the constable fresh courage, he rushed upon me suddenly, and struck at me with all his might. He did not miss me by more than six inches, and had I not slipped aside, I should have been completely at his mercy, for he was a strong man. As it was, however, he missed me completely, and not only that, but wellnigh fell down at my feet. Peter Blewitt's action, however, proved an example for the others.
"I'll see who the wench is, pistol or no pistol," I heard one say, and I saw him seize Mistress Constance's cloak, and try to pull it aside.
At this I hesitated no longer, but struck at him with my sword. Whether the blade cut its way through the man's thick clothes I know not, but he dropped his arm in a moment, and then, carried away by my desire to be rid of them, I lifted my left arm and fired. I have been told since that the bullet only grazed the man's shoulder, but he cried out like one in the death agony. "I'm killed, I'm killed! Help!" he cried.
At this he took to his heels, and flew as though the furies were at his heels, while the others, apparently frightened at the report of the pistol, followed him howling at the top of their voices.
"Are you hurt?" asked Mistress Constance.
"No; and you are safe!"
"Yes. The man did not see my face. Come, let us go."
We hurried along the road for it may be five minutes; then she stopped.
"There is a stile here somewhere," she said. "I am sure we have not passed it. Ah, there it is."
She leaped lightly over it, and then followed the windings of a footpath. Through two fields we passed together without speaking, then she turned on me suddenly.