ough it I heard Cludde order his men to splice
the broken trace. 'Twas lucky it was so, for had all four of them
come with one mind to force my frail defences, the brief siege
would, I fear, have had but a sorry end. The door was a stout one,
and finding it resisted their blows, Vetch and Cludde soon
desisted, and I supposed that they had withdrawn altogether. But
after a short interval, a violent crash on the back door, which was
of much slighter timber, warned me that I must still be prepared to
fight against heavy odds.

I looked round for Mistress Lucy: she was standing beside an oaken
clothes press, the largest article of furniture in the room.

"Help will come, I hope," I said to her; "if not, I can keep them
at bay, and I will."

A moment after I had spoken, I heard a shout from the road. The
blows upon the door ceased; I caught the sound of scurrying feet,
and running to the window, I unbarred the shutter and opened it so
that I might glance out. The coach was moving: the postilion was in
the saddle, the other man was on the box. It passed through the
gate: the horses were lashed to a gallop, and the equipage
disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. Flinging the shutter
wide, I craned my neck out of the broken panes and looked in the
other direction. Not half a mile away three horsemen were pressing
a gallop towards us.

"You are safe," I said, turning to the girl.

She came eagerly to my side, and in another minute the
horsemen--the innkeeper and two men whom I did not know--leapt from
their saddles when I hailed them, and came to ask if all was well.

Chapter 12: I Come To Bristowe--And Leave Unwillingly.

The presence of the innkeeper and his friends--a neighboring farmer
and one of his sons: another son had ridden to acquaint Mr.
Allardyce at the Hall of the kidnapping--relieved me of a certain
embarrassment I felt, now that the stress and excitement were over.
As yet Mistress Lucy had spoken scarce a word; but she had looked
at me with great kindness, and I knew that she was but waiting for
an opportunity to thank me for the service I had rendered her. With
the shy awkwardness of my age I wished to avoid this, and so I
willingly related to the innkeeper all that had occurred, and had
barely ended when Peabody came back in haste from Glazeley, where I
fear he had been fuddling himself as his wife had suggested. To him
the story had to be told over again, I meanwhile itching to get
away b