One glance showed all this.  Hawbury could not distinguish any face among the crowd of women that bent over Lady Dalrymple, and Ethel’s face was thus still unrevealed; but he saw Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby and Girasole.

“What the devil’s all this about?” asked Hawbury, haughtily, as his horses stopped at the Baron’s carriage.

“You are prisoners—­” began Girasole.

But before he could say another word he was interrupted by a cry of fury from Dacres, who, the moment that he had recognized him, sprang to his feet, and with a long, keen knife in his hand, leaped from the carriage into the midst of the brigands, striking right and left, and endeavoring to force his way toward Girasole.  In an instant Hawbury was by his side.  Two men fell beneath the fierce thrusts of Dacres’s knife, and Hawbury tore the rifle from a third.  With the clubbed end of this he began dealing blows right and left.  The men fell back and leveled their pieces.  Dacres sprang forward, and was within three steps of Girasole—­his face full of ferocity, his eyes flashing, and looking not so much like an English gentleman as one of the old vikings in a Berserker rage.  One more spring brought him closer to Girasole.  The Italian retreated.  One of his men flung himself before Dacres and tried to grapple with him.  The next instant he fell with a groan, stabbed to the heart.  With a yell of rage the others rushed upon Dacres; but the latter was now suddenly seized with a new idea.  Turning for an instant he held his assailants at bay; and then, seizing the opportunity, sprang into the woods and ran.  One or two shots were fired, and then half a dozen men gave chase.

Meanwhile one or two shots had been fired at Hawbury, but, in the confusion, they had not taken effect.  Suddenly, as he stood with uplifted rifle ready to strike, his enemies made a simultaneous rush upon him.  He was seized by a dozen strong arms.  He struggled fiercely, but his efforts were unavailing.  The odds were too great.  Before long he was thrown to the ground on his face, and his arms bound behind him.  After this he was gagged.

The uproar of this fierce struggle had roused all the ladies, and they turned their eyes in horror to where the two were fighting against such odds.  Ethel raised herself on her knees from beside Lady Dalrymple, and caught sight of Hawbury.  For a moment she remained motionless; and then she saw the escape of Dacres, and Hawbury going down in the grasp of his assailants.  She gave a loud shriek and rushed forward.  But Girasole intercepted her.

“Go back,” he said.  “De milor is my prisoner.  Back, or you will be bound.”

And at a gesture from him two of the men advanced to seize Ethel.

“Back!” he said, once more, in a stern voice.  “You mus be tentif to miladi.”

Ethel shrank back.

The sound of that scream had struck on Hawbury’s ears, but he did not recognize it, If he thought of it at all, he supposed it was the scream of common terror from one of the women.  He was sore and bruised and fast bound.  He was held down also in such a way that he could not see the party of ladies.  The Baron’s carriage intercepted the view, for he had fallen behind this during the final struggle.  After a little time he was allowed to sit up, but still he could not see beyond.