a hand against my host and
good friend Mynheer van Duyk."

"It's a lie!" shouted one of the crowd. "We know you; you are a
Frenchman masquerading in English uniform.

"Down with him, my friends. Death to the traitors!"

There was a rush up the stairs, and in an instant the terrible
fight began.

On open ground, Rupert, with his activity and his straight sword,
would have made short work of one of the brawny giants who now
attacked him, for he could have leapt out of reach of the
tremendous blow, and have run his opponent through ere he could
again lift his ponderous axe. But there was no guarding such
swinging blows as these with a light sword; and even the advantage
of the height of the stairs was here of little use.

At first he felt that the combat was desperate. Soon, however, he
regained confidence in his sword. With it held ever straight in
front of him, the men mounting could not strike without laying open
their breasts to the blade. There must, he felt, be no guarding on
his part; he must be ever on the offensive.

All this was felt rather than thought in the whirl of action. One
after another the leaders of the assailants fell, pierced through
the throat while their ponderous axes were in the act of
descending. By his side the Dutchman's retainers fought sturdily,
while the crack of the pistols of Hugh, Joe Sedley, and the master
of the house were generally followed by a cry and a fall from the
assailants.

As the difficulty of their task became more apparent, the yells of
fury of the crowd increased. Many of them were half drunk, and
their wild gestures and shouts, the waving of their torches, and
the brandishing of knives and axes, made the scene a sort of
pandemonium.

Ten minutes had passed since the first attack, and still the stairs
were held. One of the defenders lay dead, with his head cloven to
his shoulders with a poleaxe, but another had taken his place.

Suddenly, from behind, the figure of a man bounded down the stairs
from the gallery, and with a cry of "Die, villain!" struck Rupert
with a dagger with all his strength, and then bounded back into the
gallery. Rupert fell headlong amid his assailants below.

Hugh and Joe Sedley, with a shout of rage and horror, dashed from
their places, sword in hand, and leaping headlong down the stairs,
cutting and hewing with their heavy swords, swept all opposition
back, and stood at the foot, over the body of Rupert.

The three Dutchmen and Van