“Beat down their blades,” cried the Master; “no bloodshed.”

“Beat out their brains, you mean,” rejoined Blueskin with a tremendous imprecation; “no half measures now, Master.”

“Hadn’t you better hold a moment’s parley with the gentlemen before proceeding to extremities?” suggested Jonathan.

“Agreed,” responded the Master.  “Surely,” he added, staring at Rowland, “either I’m greatly mistaken, or it is—­”

“You are not mistaken, Baptist,” returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; “it is your old friend.  I’m glad to recognise you.”

“And I’m glad your worship’s recognition doesn’t come too late,” observed the Master.  “But why didn’t you make yourself known at once?”

“I’d forgotten the office you hold in the Mint, Baptist,” replied Rowland.  “But clear the room of this rabble, if you have sufficient authority over them.  I would speak with you.”

“There’s but one way of clearing it, your worship,” said the Master, archly.

“I understand,” replied Rowland.  “Give them what you please.  I’ll repay you.”

“It’s all right, pals,” cried Baptist, in a loud tone; “the gentlemen and I have settled matters.  No more scuffling.”

“What’s the meaning of all this?” demanded Sir Cecil.  “How have you contrived to still these troubled waters?”

“I’ve chanced upon an old ally in the Master of the Mint,” answered Rowland.  “We may trust him,” he added in a whisper; “he is a staunch friend of the good cause.”

“Blueskin, clear the room,” cried the Master; “these gentlemen would be private.  They’ve paid for their lodging.  Where’s Jonathan?”

Inquiries were instantly made after that individual, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Strange!” observed the Master; “I thought he’d been at my elbow all this time.  But it don’t much matter—­though he’s a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred.  Hark ye, Blueskin,” continued he, addressing that personage, who, in obedience to his commands, had, with great promptitude, driven out the rabble, and again secured the door, “a word in your ear.  What female entered the house with us?”

“Blood and thunder!” exclaimed Blueskin, afraid, if he admitted having seen the lady, of being compelled to divide the plunder he had obtained from her among his companions, “how should I know?  D’ye suppose I’m always thinking of the petticoats?  I observed no female; but if any one did join the assault, it must have been either Amazonian Kate, or Fighting Moll.”

“The woman I mean did not join the assault,” rejoined the Master, “but rather seemed to shun observation; and, from the hasty glimpse I caught of her, she appeared to have a child in her arms.”

“Then, most probably, it was the widow Sheppard,” answered Blueskin, sulkily.

“Right,” said the Master, “I didn’t think of her.  And now I’ve another job for you.”