I cut in swiftly.  “He has not seen Dick; does he know we are both here?”

She had one hand on her heart to still its tumultuous beating, and the other held behind her, and she could scarce speak more for her eagerness to have us out and away.

“No; it was you he saw; and my father heard Colonel Tarleton give the order.  Lieutenant Tybee is to take a file of his troopers and hang without grace the man he will find hiding in the wine cellar; those were his very words.  Oh, merciful heaven! will you never stir?”

Richard gave a low whistle.

“So Tybee has come alive in good time to square the old account with us,” he would say; but my wonder was greater on the other head.  “Your father?” I gasped.  “And he sent you to save me?”

“Surely,” she said.  “Are you not once again his guest, Captain Ireton?” Then she stamped her foot, and though the candle-light was of the poorest, I could see her eyes flash.  “Will you squander the last moment in silly questions?” she burst out.  “Come, I say!”

I smiled.  “Give me that sword you are hiding behind you and I will keep the door whilst you spirit Dick away.  He is not to be in this.”

She gave me the weapon, though not, as I made sure, in any consenting to my proposal.  I could have cried out in sheer joy when I found the sword to be my own good blade of proof—­the ancient Ferara willed me by my father.

Sharp as the crisis was, I make no doubt I should have asked her then and there how she came by the blade I had last seen when my Lord Cornwallis tried to break it over his knee; but the march of events suddenly became too swift for me.  There was a sound of cautious footsteps in the inclined passage leading from the butler’s pantry above, and our chance for escape that way was gone.

“Too late!” said Dick; and with an arm about Margery he whipped behind the great oaken door opened back against the cellar wall, whispering me to follow.

We were scarce in hiding, with the door well drawn back to screen us, when the cautious footsteps came slowly into the out-cellar.  Peeping through the crack behind the door we saw Pengarvin—­alone.

What brought him there without his tale of armed men at his back no man will ever know; but since his ways were always crooked and devious, I guessed he would not wish to appear in the matter in his own proper person, and yet could not deny himself a ’forehand peep to see if the trap were still safe shut and secure.

’Twas evident he was much disconcerted at finding the door open and the wine vault apparently empty.  At first he would start and dodge as if to run away; then his rage got the better of his caution and he had one of those senseless cursing fits I have before told you of, raving and swearing and promising all manner of fiendish recompense to Mistress Margery when he should have her in his power.

A little longer dwelling upon this variation of the cursing theme—­ravings in which Dick learned for the first time of the factor’s design to marry my widow and the estate—­and I do think the lad would have gone out to make him sing another tune.  But now the factor left off suddenly to cock his ear and listen, and afterward to come tiptoeing into the cellar, all eyes to spy and legs to run if a mouse should but squeak at him.