The struggles of the wounded man were desperate--so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood.

So appalling was the sight, that even the murderers--familiar as they were with scenes of slaughter,--looked aghast at it.
During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword.

It had been removed from the scabbard by the Jew.

He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing.
"Despatch him!" roared Jonathan.
Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it.
"As I could wish!" cried Jonathan.

"Bring the light, Nab." The Jew snatched up the link, and followed him.
A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued.