“Another obstacle still awaited him. This time it was a groom unarmed, who encountered him. He too, defenceless as he was, sprang wildly upon the intruder to dispute the passage. But Morgan put him by with the flat of his sword and crying—
“‘Look to your master below. I will see to the lady,’ darted on.
“After that it was all like a dream. He was dimly conscious of rushing down those steps shortly after, with a precious burden in his arms. How he struggled through the smoke and fire, or how he kept his feet on that tottering staircase, no one knows. It’s enough to say he struggled forward down the stairs and across the hall as far as the outer door, where some one snatched his unharmed burden from his arms and carried her to a place of safety, where already her father, tended by his faithful servant, was recovering consciousness.
“The courtyard by this time was crowded with troopers, Royalist and Roundhead, and above the roar of the flames and the crashing of falling roofs there rose the report of guns and the clash of swords. Morgan, half stunned and like a man in a dream, was standing propped up against a tree a helpless spectator of the scene, when suddenly one of his own men rushed up to him and saluted.
“‘The colonel, sir, is dead. He was under yonder wall as it fell. The men, sir, look to you for orders.’
“Morgan sprang to his feet like one electrified.
“‘Call the men off,’ he cried hoarsely, ‘instantly—without another blow, and bring the prisoners to the camp—to me. Lose not a moment, friend.’
“The order was obeyed. The Roundheads were glad enough to get clear of the tottering walls without being too particular as to who escaped and who was captured.
“Among the prisoners who next morning were reported to the captain as safe were Fulke, his daughter, and one manservant.
“Morgan’s heart failed him. He could not, dared not see them. He ordered them to be kept in safe custody, and, meanwhile, summoned two of his most trusty soldiers to receive orders respecting them.