ollowed on the
instant by a whirlwind of furious cries and noise.

IX

HOW THE SIEGE WAS RAISED

The man and the woman glared at each other, each in swift suspicion
of treason. The Lady of Harby was the quickest to act upon impulse.
She snatched up the pistol that lay upon the table and levelled it
with a steady hand at Evander.

"Do you use your trust to betray us?" she shrilled. "It shall not
save you."

Even a less-experienced soldier could have seen from the sure way in
which Brilliana handled her weapon that his life was in real peril,
but he paid no more heed to her menace than if she was threatening
him with her glove or her fan.

"Fighting outside!" he cried. Turning to the woman he asked, with a
fierceness that contrasted with his previous calm, "Who is the
traitor here?"

His sword was naked in his hand as he spoke and he made a rush for
the door. But before he could reach it it was flung open in his face
and Halfman rushed in, waving his drawn sword, and followed by
Thoroughgood carrying a gun and Garlinge and Clupp armed with pikes.

Inevitably bewildered by the sudden turn in the tide of events,
Evander Cloud gave ground for a moment before the onrush, while
Halfman, staggering like a drunken man, reeled forward towards
Brilliana, shrieking:

"There is fighting in the rebel lines. Help has come at last."

Whatever joy the tidings gave to Brilliana, she wasted no words from
the needs of the moment. Pointing to Evander where he stood,
irresolute in surprise, she commanded, "Secure that man!"

Evander's resolution returned to him with the sound of her voice, but
he was one against too many. While he tried to engage the blade of
Halfman, a swinging blow from the pike of Garlinge knocked his weapon
out of his hand, and in another moment he was gripped in the grasp of
the two young country giants, while Thoroughgood covered him with his
musketoon.

"This is treachery," he gasped; but no one paid any attention to his
protest. Halfman, convinced that the Puritan was a sure prisoner,
swaggered up to Brilliana with all the arrogance of a stage herald.

"Dear lord," he shouted, "dear lady, a company of Cavaliers are
galloping up the avenue, a-shouting like devils for the King."

He was flushed and drunk with exhilaration; he could speak no more;
the timely episode tickled his tired brain like wine; he caught at
the table for support and muttered inarticulately. Thoroughgood, who
had secured