“You can have no difficulty in answering that question,” said the major, sternly.
“Pardon me, sir. I find considerable difficulty in answering any question, situated as I am.”
“Have you seen Miss Mowbray?” Ranulph asked eagerly.
“Or my mother?” said the major, in the same breath.
“Neither,” replied Coates, rather relieved by these questions.
“I suspect you are deceiving us, sir,” said the major. “Your manner is confused. I am convinced you know more of this matter than you choose to explain; and if you do not satisfy me at once, fully and explicitly, I vow to Heaven—” and the major’s sword described a glittering circle round his head.
“Are you privy to their concealment?” asked Ranulph. “Have you seen aught of them, or of Luke Bradley?”
“Speak, or this moment is your last,” said the major.
“If it is my last, I cannot speak,” returned Coates. “I can make neither head nor tail of your questions, gentlemen.”
“And you positively assure me you have not seen Mrs. Mowbray and her daughter?” said Ranulph.
Turpin here winked at Coates. The attorney understood him.
“I don’t positively assert that,” faltered he.
“How!—you have seen them?” shouted Ranulph.
“Where are they?—in safety—speak!” added the major.
Another expressive gesture from the highwayman communicated to the attorney the nature of his reply.
“Without, sir—without—yonder,” he replied. “I will show you myself. Follow, gentlemen, follow.” And away scampered Coates, without once venturing to look behind him.
In an instant the ruined hall was deserted, and Turpin alone left behind. In the excitement of the moment, his presence had been forgotten. In an instant afterwards the arena was again occupied by a company equally numerous. Rust and Wilder issued from their hiding-places, followed by a throng of the gipsy crew.
“Where is Sir Luke Rookwood?” asked Turpin.
“He remains below,” was the answer returned.
“And Peter Bradley?”
“Stays there likewise.”
“No matter. Now make ready, pals. Give ’em one shout—Hurrah!”
Ranulph Rookwood and his companions heard this shout. Mr. Coates had already explained the stratagem practised upon them by the wily highwayman, as well as the perilous situation in which he himself had been placed; and they were in the act of returning, to make good his capture, when the loud shouts of the crew arrested them. From the clamour, it was evident that considerable reinforcement must have arrived from some unlooked for quarter; and, although burning to be avenged upon the audacious highwayman, the major felt it would be a task of difficulty, and that extreme caution could alone insure success. With difficulty restraining the impatience of Ranulph, who could scarcely brook these few minutes of needful delay, Major Mowbray gave particular instructions to each of the men in detail, and caused several of them to dismount.
By this arrangement Mr. Coates found himself accommodated with a steed and a pair of pistols, with which latter he vowed to wreak his vengeance upon some of his recent tormentors. After a short space of time occupied in this manner, the troop slowly advanced towards the postern, in much better order than upon the previous occasion; but the stoutest of them quailed, as they caught sight of the numerous gipsy gang drawn out in battle array within the abbey walls. Each party scanned the other’s movements in silence and wonder, anxiously awaiting, yet in a measure dreading, their leader’s signal to begin. That signal was not long delayed. A shot from the ranks of Rookwood did instant and bitter execution. Rob Rust was stretched lifeless upon the ground. Nothing more was needed. The action now became general. Fire-arms were discharged on both sides, without much damage to either party. But a rush being made by a detachment of horse, headed by Major Mowbray, the conflict soon became more serious.
The gipsies, after the first fire, threw aside their pistols, and fought with long knives, with which they inflicted desperate gashes, both on men and horses. Major Mowbray was slightly wounded in the thigh, and his steed receiving the blow intended for himself, stumbled, and threw his rider. Luckily for the major, Ranulph Rookwood was at hand, and with the butt-end of a heavy-handled pistol felled the ruffian to the earth, just as he was upon the point of repeating the thrust.