"I do not deny it," said Hal.
"Then here's for you,—slayer of my brother!" she cried, and struck him full in the face with the flat of a sword she had held beneath her cloak. In doing this she thrust her hooded head more into the lanthorn's light, and Hal recalled two things at the same instant,—the name Hazlehurst as that of the gentleman with whom Sir Valentine had fought, and the woman's face as that with which he, Master Marryott, had fallen in love at the theatre during the play of "Hamlet."
CHAPTER VIII.
"From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us!"—The Taming of the Shrew.
"And now, my men, upon him!" cried Mistress Hazlehurst, backing to make room in which her followers might obey.
These followers tried to push forward; the horses crowded one another, and there ensued much huddling and confusion. But the lantern-bearer, holding his light and his bridle in one hand, caught Mr. Marryott's bridle with the other. Hal struck this hand down with one of his pistols, which were not prepared for firing. He then drew his sword, with a gesture that threw hesitation into the ranks of his opposers.
"Madam," he cried, in no very gentle tone, "may I know what is your purpose in this?"
"'Tis to prevent your flight," she called back, promptly. "The officers of justice are slow; I shall see that you forestall them not."