worth its weight in triple fine gold to us that
night, for she brought the boat back to us without delay, and George
helped Frances aboard while I ran to the foot of the privy stairs,
shouting loudly:--

"Come on, Berkeley! Come quickly!"

Usually I think of the right thing to say a fortnight after the
opportunity, but this once the name Berkeley came to me in the nick of
time, and I evened my score with its possessor for many a dirty trick he
had put upon me. To suspect was to condemn with Charles, and I knew that
if he heard me call Berkeley's name, that consummate villain would suffer
the royal frown. And so he did, never having been able to explain, nor
deny, satisfactorily to the king, his presence at the head of the privy
stairs that night. But to return to the fight.

De Grammont heard my summons, came down the stairs three steps at a time,
and sprang into the boat from the landing.

"The oars! The oars!" cried Hamilton.

"Death is between them and us!" cried De Grammont.

"Let us go!" cried Betty. "I'll scull the boat with the steering oar!"

There was not a man in the boat who knew the art of propelling it with
one oar. Truly Betty was our salvation that night.

I shoved the boat off, Betty turned its head down-stream, and away we
shot. We were not ten paces from the water stairs when five men came
running from the privy stairs to the landing. I recognized the king, who
was in the lead. As they reached the water edge of the landing, I heard
a splash. Majesty, in his eagerness to overtake us, had gathered too
great headway and had landed, if I may use the word, in the water.

The other men, being in armor, were compelled to doff their iron before
jumping in to save the king. The night was dark, but we were so near the
landing that I saw two of the men begin to throw off their armor, and
presently I heard two splashes, followed quickly by two pistol shots in
our direction. In our direction, I say, because both of the balls struck
our boat.

After the pistol shots, all was quiet, but I knew that one of the king's
barges, with a dozen men at as many sweeps, and a score of men at arms,
would soon follow us. I made my way to the stern thwart of our boat,
where Betty was sculling for dear life, taking her course diagonally
across the river toward the Southwark bank. After we had passed the swift
current in the middle of the river, which I thought she had been seeking,
I asked:--

"Why do you not keep to