e, past old Saint
Paul's, and proceeded down Ludgate Hill.

"You seemed pleased with young Mistress Mead, Wenlock," said his father.

"Indeed I was," answered Wenlock. "Though so quiet in manner, she has
plenty to say. I never felt more inclined to talk in my life. I have
promised to pay another visit as soon as I can, and when we go away, to
write to her and give her an account of our adventures."

"You seem to have made progress in her good graces, Wenlock," said his
father; and as he was a man of the world, it might possibly have
occurred to him that when his son should desire a helpmate, fair
Mistress Mary might prove a very suitable person. That perfect
confidence existed between father and son which induced Wenlock to speak
his mind on all occasions and on all subjects. They at length reached
their destination, and the old soldier found his friend Lawrence
Hargrave at home. In their conversation, which was chiefly on matters
political, Wenlock took but little interest, his thoughts indeed being
just then occupied chiefly by Mary Mead. He was glad, therefore, when
his father announced his intention of returning home. They walked on
rapidly, for the night was cold. It was dark also, for the sky was
overcast. As they were going along Fleet Street, they heard the sound
of horses' hoofs approaching at a somewhat rapid rate. They drew on one
side, when a faint cry of "Help! help!" reached their ears.

"Come on, Wenlock," shouted the captain, rushing on. Directly before
them they saw the outlines of two horses and several persons apparently
struggling on the ground. The sounds of "Help! help!" again reached
their ears.

"Here is help to whoever is in the right," cried Christison, drawing his
sword.

"I am in the right; the others wish to kill me," said the same voice.

"No, no; he is a prisoner escaping from justice," growled a man in a
rough voice.

"It is false! Help! I am the Duke--"

At that moment, a blow was heard, and the speaker was felled to the
ground.

"I take the weakest side," cried Christison, attacking the other men,
who now, drawing their swords, attempted to defend themselves. The old
officer, a dextrous swordsman, disarmed the first, sending his weapon
flying to the other side of the street. The next he attacked, giving
him a severe wound on the arm. Young Wenlock, who, according to the
fashion of the times, also wore a sword, joined in the fray, and made so
furious an ons