rush thus into the midst of the danger. First of
all he thought that a struggle might be going on between the drivers,
the other travelers, and the brigands; in which event his assistance
would be of great value. Though unarmed, he thought he might snatch or
wrest a weapon from some one of the enemy. In addition to this, he
wished to strike a blow to save the ladies from captivity, even if his
blow should be unavailing. Even if he had known how matters were, he
would probably have acted in precisely the same way. As for Dacres, he
had but one idea. He was sure it was some trick concocted by his wife
and the Italian, though why they should do so he did not stop, in his
mad mood, to inquire. A vague idea that a communication had passed
between them on the preceding evening with reference to this was now
in his mind, and his vengeful feeling was stimulated by this thought
to the utmost pitch of intensity.

Hawbury thus lashed his horses, and they flew along the road. After
the first cry and the shot that they had heard there was no further
noise. The stillness was mysterious. It showed Hawbury that the
struggle, if there had been any, was over. But the first idea still
remained both in his own mind and in that of Dacres. On they went, and
now they came to the turn in the road. Round this they whirled, and in
an instant the scene revealed itself.

Three carriages stopped; some drivers standing and staring
indifferently; a group of women crowding around a prostrate form that
lay in the road; a pale, beautiful girl, to whom a beautiful woman was
clinging passionately; a crowd of armed brigands with leveled pieces;
and immediately before them a horseman--the Italian, Girasole.

One glance showed all this. Hawbury could not distinguish any face
among the crowd of women that bent over Lady Dalrymple, and Ethel's
face was thus still unrevealed; but he saw Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby
and Girasole.

"What the devil's all this about?" asked Hawbury, haughtily, as his
horses stopped at the Baron's carriage.

"You are prisoners--" began Girasole.

But before he could say another word he was interrupted by a cry of
fury from Dacres, who, the moment that he had recognized him, sprang
to his feet, and with a long, keen knife in his hand, leaped from the
carriage into the midst of the brigands, striking right and left, and
endeavoring to force his way toward Girasole. In an instant Hawbury
was by his side. Two men fell beneath the f