“Come on, lads!” Walter exclaimed, as he rushed at full speed at the door, the men following close at his heels.

The door was open.  In the passage lay one of the maidservants, shot through the head by one of the Hessian troopers, who still held the pistol in his hand.  Walter’s pistol cracked before the man had time to draw his sword, and he fell dead.

Then he rushed on into the hall, in which were a score of troopers, gathered round a barrel of wine which had just been broached.  In an instant, the Irish were upon them.  Many were cut down or shot, before they had time to stand on the defensive.  The rest were slain after a short and desperate fight.

“Bar the front door!” Walter shouted.  “Sergeant Mullins, take six men and hold it against those outside.  The rest follow me.”

Short as the fight had been, it had given time to the rest of the Hessians, scattered about the house in the act of plundering, to gather on the stair, headed by their officers.  Without a moment’s hesitation Walter dashed at them.  In point of numbers the party were well matched; but the fury of the Irishmen more than counterbalanced the advantage of position on the part of the Hessians.

For five minutes a desperate fight raged.  Those in front grappled each other, and fought with clubbed pistols and shortened swords.  Those behind struck a blow as they could with sword or musket.

But the Hessians, ignorant of the strength of the force which had suddenly thus attacked them, thought more of securing their safety than of defending the stairs, so several of those behind slipped away and jumped from the windows to the ground.  Their desertion disheartened those in front, and, with a shout, Walter and his troopers bore back the Hessians on to the landing, and the latter then broke and fled.  Most of them were overtaken and cut down at once.  Two or three only gained the windows and leaped out.

The instant resistance had ceased, Walter rushed into the drawing room, bidding the men run down and hold the lower windows.  Mrs. Conyers lay in a dead faint on the sofa.  Claire, with a face as pale as death, was standing beside her.

“Walter!” she gasped out; “then we are safe!”

She tottered, and would have fallen, had not Walter rushed forward in time to catch her, and place her in a chair: 

“Don’t faint, my dear Claire,” he said urgently.  “There is your mother to be looked after, and I must run downstairs, for they are attacking the house.”

“I won’t faint,” Claire said, laughing and crying in a manner which frightened Walter more than her fainting would have done.  “I shall be better directly, but it seems almost like a miracle.  Oh, those dreadful men!”

“They have all gone now, Claire.  We hold the house, and have cleared them out.  Pray, calm yourself and attend to your mother.  I must go.  Don’t be frightened at the firing.  My father will be here in a few minutes, with aid.”