With a scream of triumph a wild torrent of people broke through between them, leaving them stranded; and rushed in a headlong cataract towards the steps.

Bezers was close to us at the time.

"S'death!" he cried, swearing oaths which even his sovereign could scarce have equalled.

"They will snatch him from me yet, the hell-hounds!" He whirled his horse round and spurred him in a dozen bounds to the stairs at our end of the gallery.

There he leaped from him, dropping the bridle recklessly; and bounding up three steps at a time, he ran along the gallery.