Maria had sprung up with a scream.

“You are safe, Maria,” Rupert exclaimed, as he ran to the door.  “Here is your father.”

The discharge of the pistol had been the signal, and with it came a sound of heavy blows, the crashing of timber, and the shivering of glass.  Then rose shouts and furious exclamations, and then a great tramping sounded through the late silent house.  Doors and windows had all given way at the onset; and as Sir Richard Fulke with eight comrades rushed upstairs, Hugh and his party ran down.

Torches had been provided, and lanterns, and as three of Hugh’s men carried them the broad landing was lighted up.  Sir Richard Fulke first turned to the door of Maria’s room, but there Rupert and two followers stood with drawn swords.

“Cut them down!  Cut them down!” he shouted; but the rush of Hugh, Joe Sedley, and the rest swept him back, and he fought now to defend his life.

Up the stairs from behind ran the officers who had gained entry by the windows; and the outlaws saw themselves surrounded and hedged in.  They fought desperately but vainly, and one by one fell under the blows of their assailants.

Rupert stood immovable on guard.  He knew the desperate nature of his enemy, and feared that if he himself were drawn for a moment from his post into the conflict, he would rush past and endeavour to avenge himself upon them all by killing Maria.

At last, when most of his followers had fallen, Sir Richard Fulke made a sudden dash through his assailants, and fled up the stairs towards the door on the roof.  Rupert, who had never for a moment taken his eye off him, followed at full speed, shouting to Hugh to bring torches and follow.

Short as was the start that was gained, it nearly sufficed for the desperate man’s escape; as Rupert gained the terrace, he was already nearly at the top of the ladder against the roof.  Rupert seized the ladder, and jerked it sideways.  Sir Richard made a grasp at the crest of the roof, and then rolled down on to the terrace.

Rupert rushed forward, but the torches had not yet come, and his enemy was on his feet and upon him, with the advantage which the light coming up the stairs afforded him, and striking down his guard, rushed in and grappled with him.  Rupert dropped his sword, which was useless now, and struggled for his life.  He felt what his enemy’s object was, to throw both over the end of the terrace.  He was strong and athletic, but he was far from being a match for his older opponent, to whom rage, despair, and hatred lent a prodigious strength.

“Hugh,” he shouted, “Quick!  Quick!”

Joe Sedley was the first to leap to the terrace with a torch, and stood for a moment aghast as he saw the deadly struggle going on, close to the slight wooden railing which ran along the edge of the terrace; then he sprang forward, and just as the struggling foes crashed through the woodwork, and were in the very act of falling over the low stone parapet, he dashed the torch in Sir Richard’s face, while at the same moment he grasped Rupert’s shoulder with a grip of iron, and dragged him back; as his foe loosed his grasp when the torch struck him in the face, and dropped in the darkness.