The full moon had long set on the rolling Hampshire countryside when dense storm clouds blew in from the west, obscuring the stars. In the pitch-darkness before dawn, two riders walked their horses down a narrow, over grown bridle path. The first of them carried a lantern. He was a burly countryman in a rough russet-colored coat and wide-brimmed straw hat. The second wore a heavy cloak over the scarlet uniform of a colonel in the marines.

Both men were well armed. They had carbines in the holsters attached to their saddles, and each wore a brace of pistols in his belt. The colonel’s heavy sword was curved like a cavalry saber rather than the customary straight weapon.

The county man with the lantern had a double-barreled shotgun slung over his shoulder. They stopped and listened, but all they could hear was the soft jungle of the metal bits as the horses tore grass from the ragged edge of the pathway. The colonel took a watch from his waistcoat and leaned forward to read the time by the soft glow of the lantern.

“Do you think he’ll be there?” asked the countryman, a slight note of anxiety in his voice.

The colonel nodded. “I’m sure of it. Is everything prepared?”

“Just as you instructed.”

“Pass me the lantern and follow my orders if I give the signal.”

“I will, sir.”

Leaving his companion in the lane, the colonel urged his horse forward to a gap in the hedge, which led into the wide courtyard of an abandoned farmhouse. A dimmed lantern hanging above its entrance cast a small circle of light onto the cobbles.

Despite the darkness, the colonel was familiar with the layout here. A row of stables was connected to the farmhouse, and a ramshackle barn completed the third side of the open court. The colonel doused his own light, slid down from his horse, and looped the reins over the shaft of a massive old farm cart with a broken wheel. Much of its load of hay had spilled onto the cobbles.

Then he stood very still in the darkness. He could feel the weather had changed. A sudden stronger breeze blew from the west and he could smell the coming rain.

“Did you bring the money?” a low voice asked from beyond the circle of light.

Remaining in the darkness, the colonel took a heavy leather pouch from the pocket of his cloak. Holding it at arm’s length, he shook it. The gold coins inside jingled, and instinctively he stepped away from the sound he’d made. The movement saved his life.

A musket blasted out of the darkness to the left of the lantern’s pool of light; the shot thudded into the butt of the carbine on the colonel’s saddle. His horse reared in terror and, tearing the reins free, it galloped blindly out of the cobbled yard.

Two more shots rang out before a voice screamed, “Stop firing, you fool! Give me more light.”

A figure carrying a musket darted forward and reached out to turn up the wick of the lantern over the doorway. From where the colonel now lay flat on the cobbled yard, he discharged his pistol at the man and rolled quickly away to seek cover under the sagging edge of the wagon.

The more musket shots rang out.

Five of them, the colonel calculated. Time to adjust the odds. Reaching up, he fired his other pistol into the straw spilling out of the wagon and hurriedly scrambled away into the barn behind. The muzzle flash from his last shot caught the dry straw. A lick of fire showed, then there was a sudden explosive brilliance – gunpowder mixed in with the straw had burst into a dazzling incandescence that illuminated the whole courtyard.

“Down on him,” shouted the hidden leader, “before he has time to reload.”

Silhouetted against the flames, three men carrying muskets fitted with bayonets charged into the barn. The colonel thrust his hands into a full corn bin next to the doorway and withdrew two pistols that had been concealed in the grain. When his attackers were within seven paces of him, he fired.

Grunting, two of the men sprawled at his feet, but the third came on, thrusting the wickedly glinting bayonet at his stomach. The colonel tossed aside his empty pistols and drew his saber. With an upward sweep, he parried the musket and swung the blade down to strike the attacker’s neck.

As the man fell, the blast of a shotgun was followed by another single pistol shot. After a brief pause, his companion shouted, “All clear, sir.”

The colonel wiped his saber on the coat of one of the slain men and returned to the courtyard, where the flames of the burning straw were already dying down. The country man turned up the lantern over the doorway and pointed with his shotgun toward the other two dead men, saying, “Both done for, sir”

“Hardly my most elegant plan,” replied the colonel wryly, “but effective for all that.”

“Good job we were prepared, sir,” replied his accomplice.

The colonel consulted his watch again. “I’ve got to catch the mail coach to Portsmouth. I must hurry. You’d better clear up here later.”

“I caught your horse,” answered the countryman. “We’ll make the rendezvous with time to spare.”

Colonel Beaumont looked up at the black sky. As he wearily hauled himself into the saddle, the fist drops of rain began to fall.