Green heard him to an end without any further movement than the step back which he had taken, and which placed him in such a position that he could front either Barkley and the rest on the one side, or those who were at the door upon the other, without the possibility of any one coming upon him from behind without being seen.  The moment the other had done, however, he shook back the cloak from his shoulders, and took from the broad horseman’s girdle which girt him round the middle, a pistol, the barrel of which was fully eighteen inches long, while its counterpart appeared on the other side of the belt, in which also were two more weapons of the same kind, but of less dimensions.  He leaned the muzzle calmly upon his hand for a moment, and looking tranquilly in the face of Sir John Fenwick he said, in a quiet tone, “Sir John Fenwick, you are in my way.  You will do wisely to retire from the door, and take your friend with you.”

“Rush upon him!” cried a man named Cranburne; and as he spoke he sprang forward himself, while Sir George Barkley and the rest came somewhat more slowly after.  The pistol was in a moment transferred to Green’s left hand, and with a back-handed blow of the right, which seemed in fact but a mere touch, Cranburne was laid prostrate on the ground, with his whole face and neck swimming in blood from his mouth and nose.  In his fall he nearly knocked down Sir George Barkley, who took it as a signal for retreat towards the fire-place, and at the same moment Green, who had not moved a step from the spot where he stood, repeated in a louder voice, “You are in my way, Sir John Fenwick!  Move from the door!” and at the same instant, in the silence which had followed the overthrow of Cranburne, the ringing sound occasioned by a pistol being suddenly cocked made itself distinctly heard.

“Move, move, Sir John Fenwick!” cried one of the others, a Captain Porter—­“this is all very silly:  we risk a great deal more by making a fracas here, than in trusting to the honour of a gentleman, such as the Colonel.”

Sir John Fenwick did not require two recommendations to follow this suggestion, but he and Parkyns drew back simultaneously, leaving the way free for Green to go out.  He advanced, in consequence, as if to take advantage of this movement; but before he quitted the room, he turned and fronted the party assembled.

“Sir George Barkley,” he said, looking at him with a scornful smile, “you are, all of you, afraid of my telling what I know; but now that the way is clear, I will so far relieve you as to say, that nothing which any of you have told me shall ever pass my lips again.  The knowledge that I have gained or may gain by other means is my own property, with which I shall do as I like; but there are one or two pieces of information which I carry under my doublet, and which you may not be sorry to hear.  As for you.  Sir George Barkley, the secret I have to reveal to you is, that you are a white-livered