“Aye, a true woman, a frail woman,” whined the poor lady.

“But,” continued Betty, “the guard is armed, so are we; we have still a mile to go.  Ha!” her voice ended abruptly.  There was a crashing sound, a shot, a shout, a confused sense as if the whole coach were falling to the ground.  The door was torn open.  Before Betty could even raise the deadly little weapon she carried, it was seized from her hand—­the whole party were dragged out of the carriage—­they found themselves surrounded by armed men.  There was a violent struggle, fighting and disorder, loud oaths from the coachman, appalling shrieks from Mary Jones.  Some one opened a lantern and allowed its red glare to fall on the scared prisoners and on the black masks of their captors.

The man who was evidently the leader of the party was holding Betty’s two hands in one of his in a grasp which she imagined to be gentle until she attempted to release them, when she discovered that she might as easily have broken bands of steel.

“Here, give me a rope, we must bind our prisoners,” said this man suddenly.  “This fair lady had all but fired one shot too many for Wild Jack to-night!”

There was a laugh, and with dexterity, evidently gained from experience, the prisoners were rapidly bound.

“I am grieved to incommode you thus, madam,” said the leader, bowing low to Betty.  “Our business is with that gentleman,” with a slight motion of his hand towards the hapless Mr. Barnes.  Betty bowed slightly.  The light fell full on her tall figure, on her noble head slightly raised and thrown back, the nostrils dilated, the colour glowing richly in the soft cheek.  Wild Jack, looking at her, felt a glow of enthusiasm which betrayed itself in his voice.

“You have nothing to fear, madam,” he said.

“I?  I fear nothing,” said the girl calmly—­“Wild Jack is a gentleman.”

The highwayman made a rapid sign to his comrades, who proceeded to throw themselves on to Samuel Barnes, and begin to search him from head to foot.

A sudden fear flashed into Betty’s mind.  How if Wild Jack were unable to restrain his companions, infuriated as they would be by their failure in discovering the expected treasure on the person of their victim?

Her cheeks paled, for one moment she turned her eyes full on the masked face of her captor.  Masked as he was, her look thrilled him through and through.

“You are safe,” he repeated hurriedly.

Something in his voice seemed to give her confidence, for she stooped forward and said in a low voice, “Mr. Barnstaple, I trust to your honour,—­the money is here.”

And with a grand movement she laid her bound hands on her breast.

Wild Jack bowed low, but he said nothing, and in spite of the bold front she bore, Betty’s heart beat fast.

The noise increased.  Samuel Barnes, maddened with fright, struggled against his assailants furiously, but he was overmatched, a violent blow with the butt end of a pistol stunned him completely, and all resistance was over.  Undaunted by their want of success the coach was then rifled, the mails ruthlessly thrown out into the road.