“Is Lingen with them?” eagerly asked an officer by Sir Richard’s side, who seemed to share the command with him.
“Colonel Kyrle—Captain Trevor,” said the knight, introducing them. “I suppose you’re aware we’ve taken Monmouth?”
“I was not; but am happy to hear it. Yes, Colonel,” replying to Kyrle, “Lingen is with them; coming on in the pursuit.”
Over the features of the ex-Royalist came an expression of almost savage joy, as one who had been longing to confront an old and hated foe, and knew the opportunity near.
“I’m glad?” he exclaimed, as in soliloquy; then seemed to busy himself about his arms.
“His presence was near being a sorry thing for me—the inhuman scoundrel!” rejoined the escaped prisoner.
“How so?”
“I heard him give the order to fire on me, as I was making off.”
“And they did?”
“Yes. Every one who could get piece, or pistol, ready in time.”