Sir Miles changed the direction of the pistol, and leaning forward, discharged the contents in the head of the horse which the boy was riding. The poor creature bounded forward and fell dead.
There was a moment of confusion; the flying horses stumbled and fell, the boys were thrown from their saddles: the carriage was stopped suddenly.
Then, what followed happened all in a moment. Yet it is a moment which to me is longer than any day of my life, because the terror of it has never left me, and because in dreams it often comes back to me. Ah! what a prophetess was Nancy when she said that some dreadful thing would happen before all was over, unless Will went away.
Sir Miles and my lord sprang to their feet. Will, with a terrible oath, leaped forth from the carriage. For a moment he stood glaring from one to the other like a wild beast brought to bay. He was a wild beast. Then he raised his great cudgel and rushed at my lord.
“You!” he cried; “you are the cause of it. I will beat out your brains!”
Lord Chudleigh leaped lightly aside, and avoided the blow which would have killed him had it struck his head. Then I saw the bright blade in his hand glisten for a moment in the sunlight, and then Will fell backwards with a cry, and lay lifeless on the green turf, while my lord stood above him, drops of red blood trickling down his sword.
“I fear, my lord,” said Sir Miles, “that you have killed him. Fortunately, I am witness that it was in self-defence.”
“You have killed him! You have killed my master!” cried the stable boy, whose left arm, which was broken by his fall from the horse, hung helpless at his side. “You have killed the best master in all the world! Lord or no lord, you shall hang!”
He rushed with his one hand to seize the slayer of his master, this poor faithful slave, whose affections had only grown firmer with every beating. Sir Miles caught him by the coat-collar and dragged him back.
“Quiet, fool! Attend to your master. He is not dead—yet.”