“Ah! come out, spy!” cried Everell, as the human character of the intruder was certified by a sound of husky breathing.
He darted his weapon swiftly here and there through the shrubbery, and then ran seeking the nearest opening by which he might get to the enemy. But the enemy spared him that trouble by appearing on the hither side of the barrier, from the very opening that Everell had sought. The strange man had a gun raised, to wield it as a club.
Everell, recalling his experience of John Tarby’s fowling-piece, nevertheless ran toward the fellow, hoping to dodge the blow, and disable the man by pinking him in the arm or shoulder, after which it might be possible to learn his purpose and come to terms. But just as the young gentleman went to meet his approaching foe, a sharp scream from Georgiana distracted him, so that, though he saved his head, he caught the gun-stroke on his right shoulder, and his sword-thrust passed wide of his adversary. He now heard other feet hastening toward him through the garden: it was, indeed, the appearance of the two other men, coming to the keeper’s aid upon his signal of the owl’s hoot, that had caused Georgiana to cry out. Everell, seeing his first opponent draw back to recover himself, turned swiftly to consider the newcomers, placing his back to the high shrubbery. One was approaching on his front, the other at his left. They both brandished cudgels; but, as they saw him dart his glance upon them in turn and hold his sword ready for a lunge in either direction, they stopped at safe distance.
“Oh, Everell, fly!” cried Georgiana, hastening to his side.
“What! and leave you to these rascals, sweet?” he answered.
“They’ll not harm me: they are servants here. Save yourself!—for my sake!”
He looked at her for an instant, read in her eyes the pleading of her heart, and said, softly, “For yours, yes!—we shall meet again.”
He then started toward the gateway leading to the park and glen. But the gardener and the groom swallowed their fear of steel, and made bravely to intercept him. He had confidence in his ability with the sword to deal with two men armed with cudgels. But he knew that his ultimate situation would be so much the worse if he killed either of these fellows. His thought, therefore, was to elude them by mere fleetness, or slightly to disable them. He soon abandoned the former hope, for at the first turn he tried they were swift to head him off. So he charged straight at the nearer, thrusting so fortunately as to prick the fellow’s shoulder, making him lower his cudgel with a howl. Everell now tried a similar lunge at the other cudgel-man, but the latter divined his purpose, and saved himself by tumbling over backward. The wounded man had instantly transferred his cudgel to his left hand, and now stood again in Everell’s way, while the fellow with the gun had come up to threaten him in the rear. Informed of this last danger by his hearing, the Jacobite sprang aside to the right in time to avoid a second blow. He turned swiftly upon the gun-wielder, whose fear of the sword made him thereupon flee toward the gateway. Everell’s three adversaries were now all in that part of the garden through which he had intended to escape.
“This way!” cried Georgiana, from behind him; “and by the terrace!”
Everell wheeled around and made a dash for the steps. His enemies were prompt to recover from their surprise and rush after him, the fallen man having speedily got on his feet again. But the clean-limbed Jacobite won to the steps by more than striking-distance. He thought to clear them in two bounds, then cross the terrace and gain the park.