CHAPTERCXL.THE SURPRISE—CHARLES PEACE’S NEW PANTOMIME TRICK. HIS UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE ON THE SCENE.While Professor Mainwaring had been relating the foregoing adventure, Lord Fitzbogleton and Arabella Lovejoyce had strolled through the suite of rooms, engaged in close converse.The young nobleman, who was greatly taken with the lovely Arabella, evidently desired atete-à-tetewith the fascinating creature.It is true she cared but little about his attentions—indeed she did not in any way offer him encouragement, and felt more disposed to view the matter in a humorous light than otherwise; but she was like most women—pleased at being made much of by one who seemed to be an admirer.His lordship could not at present be looked upon in the light of a lover, though it must be confessed that he appeared to be fast approaching that delightful and beautiful state of existence.He was evidently spooney on Miss Lovejoyce—that is the correct term—albeit it may be a little too expressive.They sauntered from room to room, roved like butterflies from flower to flower—discoursed on the several articles of virtu which came upon view as they passed along, and being a great admirer of the products of nature, Lord Fitzbogleton, naturally enough, was attracted by a choice collection of exotic plants which were displayed in such admirable order within the conservatory abutting out from the furthermost apartment.It was equally natural also that he should wish his fair companion to admire the choice flowers as well as himself.Lord Fitzbogleton had not a very strong voice; indeed, it might be said to be weak. He had, moreover, a slight lisp. This is rather pleasing than otherwise in a female, provided she be young and pretty, but it cannot be deemed a recommendation to one of the sterner sex.But, despite all these little drawbacks, his lordship was a thoroughly good-natured man, and good-hearted as well, and this is saying a great deal just now, seeing how few possess either of these qualifications.When the young people had gained the conservatory Lord Fitzbogleton, after passing his remarks on the plants before him and discoursing on their various properties, and which country they were indigenous to, he looked into the face of his companion.He intended to convey by the look unutterable things, but its eloquence was lost upon his companion.“Now, I don’t know what you think, Miss Lovejoyce, but I call this the most pleasant part of the day. I have never felt so happy as at the present moment.”“I am glad to hear you say so,” observed Arabella, looking intently, with the eye of a connoisseur, at the magnificent bloom of a cactus.“You are? By Jove, that’s wery wemarkable! I hope and trust the feeling is wecipwocal. Indeed, I feel assured it is.”“Oh, certainly, I hope so,” returned his fair companion, who, however, had great difficulty in suppressing a smile.“Well, you know, I am not much of a fellow for argument and all that sort of thing, you know, and I can’t for a moment pwetend to tell stories and anecdotes like our fwends in the other room; still, I can appweciate a good tale if it’s well told, and like to hear fellows hold forth, but I much pwefer being alone with a cweature like—well, like yourself, Miss Lovejoyce. You understand my meaning, eh!”“Oh! certainly, my lord—indeed, I quite understand you.”“I hope we shall soon understand one another better,” he returned, looking into her face admiringly.Miss Lovejoyce made no reply; she appeared to be still engaged in admiring the cactus.“Confound it! What is there in that flower to attract so much attention?” observed her companion.“It is very beautiful,” she returned, carelessly.“I do not deny that. I know a fellow who grows these sort of things—takes a delight with ’em, you know. He would tell you the name and properties of any plant in the whole creation—thinks of nothing else, I do believe.”“He is an admirer of nature’s products, doubtless, and is a man of taste, I suppose.”“Oh, dear me, yes, but you see some how or other I pwefer animated nature.”“Both animated and inanimate nature have their respective charms,” returned the lady.“I dare say, but why will you be so pewerse?”“Perverse! I do not understand you.”“Well, now, just look here. I want you to give more attention to me. Don’t you see?” cried his lordship, glaring at her through his eyeglass.She smiled, and replaced the pot containing the cactus in its original position.“There,” she ejaculated, “will that satisfy you? I am all attention.”“Oh, Miss Lovejoyce, you are a charming cweature,” said he, taking her jewelled hand within his own.“I am afraid you are a flatterer.”“Oh, so Lady Marvlynn said half an hour or so ago, but you are both mistaken, I am no such thing. If there is one thing, I plume myself upon more than another, it is my sincerity.”“That is a quality which, to say the truth is rare, my lord, and therefore cannot be too highly prized.”“You think so?”“Most certainly, I do.”“I am glad to hear you say so.”“Why?”“Because it gives me hope.”“Hope?”“Pwecisely; hope and confidence, for, to say the truth, as a rule I do not posses much of the latter.”“Are you wanting in confidence then?” cried the lovely Arabella, with a wicked smile. “That is most unfortunate.”“Yes, I admit it is a misfortune. I know a lot of fellows who have the audacity of a highwayman’s horse. Sometimes I wish I had my share of the same.”“I don’t like men who are of too demonstrative or of too pronounced a character.”“No more do I,” returned her admirer, “but still, you know, a fellow can’t get on in the world who is too retiring.”“No, certainly not. It is the happy medium which is most to be desired. But what is so engaging your attention just now, my lord.”“I was looking at this charming wing. It is very chaste in design.”“Do you think so?”“Yes I do, indeed,” he observed looking intently at the ornament on one of her fingers. “I admire it immensely, even as I do its wearer.”Miss Lovejoyce looked down at the tesselated pavement of the conservatory, but she made no reply.“I’m going to beg a favour of you,” said he, after a pause.“A favour?”“Yes. Will you grant it?”“I must first know what it is.”“But you would not wefuse me?”“That depends.”“Depends on what?”“The nature of the request you have to make.”“Well, I was about to say, and, ahem, it may as well be said at once. Don’t you think so?”“Most certainly I do. Proceed, my lord.”“Ah, yes, I will. Well, you know, it’s just this—I’ve got a wing which has been worn by the Queen of Spain. It is a rare jewel—a trinket of the choicest quality.”“Indeed! I should like to see it.”“I not only desire you to see it, but the favour I was about to ask is that you will accept it from my hand, and——”“And what—the other conditions?”“That you will wear it in remembrance of me. Do you now understand?”“Oh, I comprehend; but at the same time, you must pardon the observation, my lord, but I do not see how I can consistently accept it as a gift.”And why not, Miss Lovejoyce—I mean Awabella? You must let me call you Awabella—you weally must. Miss Lovejoyce seems so stiff and formal.”“Well, call me Arabella if that pleases you better.”“It does please me, and so it’s a bargain.”“What’s a bargain?”“That I am to call you by your Christian name.”“Agreed then. It is a bargain.”And now about the wring? You must—you will accept it.”“I have not said so.“Not as yet, but you intend to do so.”“You are arriving at a hasty conclusion, my lord.”“Not at all. So, now don’t turn away. I hope I have not offended you.”“Oh, dear me, no; but still, at the same time, I think it would be very indiscreet on my part to receive a present from you.”“By no means. I shall be very much hurt if you refuse. Nay, more, I won’t take a refusal.”“For a gentleman who is so wanting in confidence your tone is somewhat dictatorial,” said she, with a merry laugh.“It is for you to dictate, and for me to obey,” returned he.“Very good—very good, indeed. I quite agree with you.”“If you agree with me, I shall consider the question settled.”“What question?”“The wing.”“Oh, is that all?”“Yes.”“Ah, my dear friend, you must allow me some brief space of time to consider the matter over. You know, my lord, we must be governed by the rules of etiquette, and, it is, therefore, for me to arrive at some satisfactory conclusion as to what is seemly and proper in a case of this sort.”“Upon my word, Awabella, you talk more like some old sage than as a cheery and fascinating young girl. I don’t care to argue questions of this nature. Arguments are altogether out of place in—ahem—in affairs of the heart, you know.”“In affairs of the heart, my lord?”“Certainly. Now don’t you be so pwovoking. I do declare that I have a mind to stop your mouth with——”He drew her towards him and kissed her passionately.“My lord, pray don’t. What can you be thinking about?” she ejaculated.“I think only of you, my darling Awabella—only of you,” he replied.“I am really very sorry you should be wanting in confidence,” she returned, pouting.“Well, I don’t care. You’ll dwive me to despewation—that’s what you’ll do.”“It appears to me that you are half way there at the present moment. Do not be so demonstrative. Pray release me.”He had his arm round her waist at this time, and did not seem disposed to comply with her request.The sparkling champagne he had imbibed seemed to have endowed him with a courage which surprised both himself and his fair companion.“I think we had better return to the concert-room,” observed Arabella.“Ah, by no means,” said he, “we are far better here.”“But I’m positively afraid of you, my lord. Let us return, I pray.”“I can’t for a moment consent to such a course. No-no, my dear Awabella; you have said I might call you by that name—this is elysium. The concert-room is but earth.”“Pray, don’t be metaphorical or poetic, for it would be more than I could bear just now.”“You are the most tantalising, charming, bewitching creature I ever met with in the course of my life. Oh, Awabella, tell me, dearest, if you have any wegard for me?”“How can you ask such a ridiculous question?”“Widiculous, my charmer!” ejaculated Lord Fitzbogleton. “You surely do not for a moment imagine I am jesting?”“I don’t know what to think; you have taken me so by surprise.”“Ah, ah, endeavoured to carry the fortress by storm, as our friend Smithers Smythe would say, but you must allow me the privilege,” and here he snatched another kiss.“It’s very wrong and altogether improper,” cried Arabella. “If you don’t desist I shall be offended—indeed I shall; and when I am once offended I must tell you frankly I am not likely to forget—I won’t say forgive, but certainly I shall not forget.”“Now you are angwy.”“I am not very well pleased with you, I candidly confess.”“You do not like me, then?”“I have not said that. You will please me better by being a little more reasonable. I do not care about so much ardour and impetuosity, and for this reason I doubt its sincerity. Now don’t be angry—I do not mean to offend you.”“You cannot do that. I love you too much.”“Love me?”“Yes, that is what I said.”“Well, my lord, I am bound to believe you.”“And what say you?”“At present I do not choose to say anything. So let that pass.”“Not say anything?”“No, certainly not. I am a free agent and reserve to myself the right of placing my affections on the man I deem worthy of them.”“And am I not worthy of them?”“I do not say you are not.”“But you will not say I am. Is that what you mean?”“As time goes on I shall be better able to judge. A fortress may be carried by storm, I suppose, but it would be indeed a vain attempt to gain the heart of a woman by any such means—certainly not my heart. I only speak of myself.”“I have no desire to attempt such a course of action,” observed the young nobleman, in an altered and more subdued tone. “Pardon me. I ask your pardon,” he ejaculated, falling on one knee before his companion.“Rise, my lord, pray rise; you would not like to be caught by any of the company in this supplicating position.”“I will not wise until you tell me you forgive me,” cried he.“I do forgive you. Be satisfied with that declaration.”Lord Fitzbogleton found out that he was no match for his fair enslaver, whose force of character was far beyond his own. He arose and looked a little foolish. Most men do when they meet with a reproof or a rebuff under similar circumstances.“You are weally most exacting and hard-hearted,” said he, “but, possibly, I have been to blame; but I am sure you will take a merciful view of the case. Now tell me, dearest Arabella, if you feel disposed to take compassion on me. Hang it, but I am a poor hand at pleading my own cause—don’t you think so?”“I hardly know what reply to give to such a question,” she observed with a witching smile.“I am sure you think so, only you don’t like to acknowledge it. Come, dearest, let us be friends.”“We are friends, and true ones I hope.”“That’s kind of you to say that. I mustn’t, of course, I mustn’t. I mean I must keep at a respectful distance—eh?”She laughed again. “I cannot be angry with you, my lord. Indeed, there is no reason for my being so, seeing that you are so candid—and at the same time so very affectionate.”“Hang it all!—don’t chaff a fellow. Nobody likes to be made a fool of, you know.”“Certainly not, my lord; and I am not likely to attempt such a thing. And, indeed, I feel perfectly well convinced that I should not succeed if I made the attempt. I both esteem and admire you.”“You admire me—eh?”“Yes, I see many things to admire in you.”“What are they?”“Well, in the first place you’re remarkably good-natured, and you have, I believe, a good temper; in addition to which I believe you are sincere—at least I hope so.”“Say you are sure of it,” he cried quickly.“As far as I am able to judge at present, I feel assured of it. Will that satisfy you?”He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.The conversation was continued for some time after this, but we must for the present leave the young people to themselves to pay a visit to one of the upper apartments of the widow’s house.While Lady Marvlynn’s guests were engaged in conversation in the concert-room, and Lord Fitzbogleton was engaged in whispering soft nothings into the ear of the fascinating Arabella Lovejoyce, a far different scene was taking place in a chamber above.James Jabez Jones, her ladyship’s footman, was sent up by one of his fellow-servants for his mistress’s fan, for her ladyship by this time began to feel the heat oppressive. She had had a day of considerable toil and anxiety, and was consequently in what might be termed a state of flustration.Now, when Mr. Jones ascended the stairs, in search of the fan in question, he was a little surprised at hearing a sort of subdued noise in one of the upstair rooms.James Jones was a cautious, careful man—so when the sounds, which were altogether new and strange to him, fell upon his ears, he came to a sudden halt and listened more intently.Some one was evidently moving about in an adjoining apartment: of that he felt perfectly well assured.Who could it be? was the very natural question he asked himself. Not any one of the visitors, for they were all below—probably it might be one of the maid servants. The door of the room was partially open, and through the crevice of this he peeped in. He then saw the figure of a man moving about in what he deemed a stealthy manner.Mr. Jones was surprised—indeed, it might be said astounded.From what he could make out, the person in the room was a short elderly man, with a long coat and a sort of wide-awake hat.“Haint up to no good, I fancy,” murmured James Jones; “leastways that’s my ’pinion. Who the devil can he be, and what brings him here?”He peered through the crevice of the door, and saw the suspicious-looking party lay his hands on some trinkets, and place them in one of the capacious pockets of his coat.“Well, I’m blowed,” murmured the astonished footman, “if this ere don’t take the wind out of me entirely. Why, hang it, the fellow’s a thief or a burglar, as sure as my name’s Jones! I’m blest if he aint and no mistake—the audacious circumventing scoundrel!”It was as plain as a pikestaff—the man was possessing himself of what property he could lay his hands on; that was too evident.Mr. Jones was a man of Patagonian proportions—he was tall, and proportionately stout, with a broad pair of shoulders, and unexceptionable calves.In point of fact, he considered himself to be one of the chief ornaments of the household; but despite his stalwart frame and athletic limbs, he was what one might term “knocked silly” for a brief space of time.The situation in which he found himself was altogether an exceptional one.He was calmly contemplating a burglar or professional thief at work, and James Jones was, as a matter of course, for the moment dumfounded.The audacity of the man was beyond all bounds.How he had contrived to effect an entrance into the apartment in question was a matter the puzzled footman could not determine, but it was plainly demonstrated that he was there.“Well I never!” exclaimed Jones. “It seems altogether impossible, and surpasses all belief, the contemptible, despicable little thief.”The reader will doubtless be in no way surprised when we signify that the robber to whom the footman alluded was none other than our old acquaintance, Charles Peace, who, taking advantage of the family gathering at Lady Marvlynn’s, had crept into the house to do a little business on his own account while the festivities were at their height, and had it not been for the little incident of the fan would in all probability have escaped notice, and got clear off without anybody being the wiser. As it was, however, the chances were against him.Mr. Jones opened the door and entered the apartment.“Now, then, sir, what are you doing here?” he suddenly exclaimed.Peace, whose back was towards the speaker, turned round and looked at the footman.“You audacious thieving scoundrel!” exclaimed the latter.“Stand back!” cried Peace. “If you don’t, it’ll be the worse for you!”As he uttered these words he drew from his pocket a life-preserver, which he held menacingly forward.James Jabez Jones was a brave man. To be threatened and insulted by a contemptible little wretch like Peace was more than he could stand.He rushed at once forward and laid hold of the burglar, who deftly slipped from his grasp, and then with a cat-like spring made for the half opened window of the bedroom.Jones, who had not been prepared for this show of activity uttered a growl of dissatisfaction, and in his turn flew towards the window.Once more he laid his hands upon the culprit. Peace, who was at this time kneeling on the sill of the window, preparatory to springing out, now found his situation a desperate one.He struck out with his life-preserver, but from the position he occupied was unable to use it with anything like effect. With one hand James Jones fairly grasped the collar of Peace’s coat, and with the other he held the wrist of the burglar to prevent him from inflicting any more blows with his weapon.A determined struggle now took place, and our hero, much to his chagrin, found that he was in the grasp of a formidable and powerful antagonist.“You just let go, you d——d fool,” cried he, foaming with passion.“Not if I know it,” returned James Jones. “No, my little beauty, don’t think to get off, because it’s time your game was put a stop to. So you are the chap as has been committing all these robberies. Glad to make your acquaintance. There’s a good many as will be glad to see you.”“Are there?” cried Peace. “Are there, you ugly dirty flunkey.”He hardly knew what to say bitter enough, but he was determined to run any risk rather than be taken prisoner, and had he happened at this time to be possessed of his revolver, the chances would have been that James Jabez Jones would have received the contents of one or more barrels: but he was without that useful weapon, and bitterly deplored this fact.Jones stuck to him like a leech, and the burglar found it impossible to flee himself from his grasp.Below him was the roof of the conservatory, in which Lord Fitzbogleton and Arabella Lovejoyce were conversing, altogether heedless of the scene that was taking place above them.Peace threw his legs off the window-sill, electing to trust to chance. He then hung suspended therefrom, held only by the powerful arms of the footman, who strove to lift him up and drag him on to the sill.This, however, he found to be an impossibility. Still, he was not disposed to give up the struggle as hopeless.Peace kept twisting and turning about, in the hope of wearing out his tormentor, and, to say the truth, Mr. Jones soon gave symptoms of distress, as they say in the sporting world; but, to his infinite credit, however, he stuck manfully to his colours, or rather his “man.”Peace placed one of his knees against the wall of the house, and then threw the upper portion of his body backwards.This had the effect of forcing Mr. Jones partly through the window. Indeed, he was nearly coming through bodily, so sudden and artful had been his opponent’s movement.It aint no good, you spiteful little reptile,” cried the footman. “You aint a going to get off—so don’t think it.”“Aint I,” sneeringly returned our hero, making such a hideous grimace that the flunkey felt perfectly disgusted, “aint I, Mr. Yellowplush? We’ll see presently. Oh, Lord, I wish I had——” he paused suddenly.“Yes, I dare say you do wish you were on the top of a Brixton bus—eh?”“Don’t you be so cheeky, Mr. Yellowplush, “cause you see I aint accustomed to give in to the likes of you.”“Aint you?”“No, I aint, old ugly mug,” returned Peace, making a still more hideous grimace.“You’d do very well to grin through a horse collar, you would,” remarked Jones. “Why don’t you try it? It’s a much more respectable line of business than prigging, I should say.”Mr. Jones found his strength giving way. He did not like to leave go—nevertheless he called out for assistance.At this particular time a grand piece was being performed by Signor Maronski and two of his pupils, and it was of so furious a character that the dulcet voice of James Jabez Jones was drowned thereby.Nevertheless, when our hero heard the footman shout out he was perfectly furious and driven almost to desperation.He placed both knees against the brickwork and gave his body a sudden and violent jerk. The effect was magical.James Jabez Jones lost his equilibrium, and he and the burglar fell together in a deadly grasp.A crash followed immediately; the glass of the greenhouse was shivered into a thousand fragments, and two men fell upon the tesselated pavement. In their passage pots and flowers were upset, and worse than all the hat worn by Lord Fitzbogleton was forced over his eyes, where it remained like an extinguisher, his lordship at the same time being knocked over by the concussion, and a scene took place which I shall find it difficult to describe.In the first place Arabella Lovejoyce, who was under the impression that a thunderbolt had fallen, uttered a series of piercing screams. The company in the further room rose from their seats and rushed pell-mell towards the spot from whence the sounds proceeded, and in a moment the green-house and the adjoining room were filled with people with anxious and inquiring faces.The charming Arabella fainted in the arms of Major Smithers Smythe; on the hard pavement of the conservatory lay Charles Peace, stunned and motionless, and at a short distance from him was the prostrate form of James Jabez Jones, with pieces of glass sticking in his unmentionables, and his white stockings stained with blood from the same cause.Poor fellow, his appearance was rueful in the extreme, but he was not reduced to a comatose state, albeit he was terribly bruised, and was aching in every limb.Lord Fitzbogleton was making desperate efforts to get his head out of his hat, but at present had not been successful. The broken flower-pots were strewn around in confusion, and the wreck was altogether perfectly appalling.“For mercy’s sake, gentlemen, do tell me what is the matter,” cried Lady Marvlynn. “What dreadful accident has occurred? And my poor dear Arabella,” she murmured, as she caught sight of her protegee; “pray bring her into the house, major, and let the dear girl be attended to. Oh! merciful heaven, but this is indeed dreadful.”Arabella Lovejoyce was carried into the house, and placed upon one of the couches, where restoratives were applied.Lady Marvlynn returned to the conservatory.“What is the matter?” she again cried, in a beseeching tone. “For mercy’s sake do speak, some one of you, and explain this dreadful business!”“My dear Lady Marvlynn,” said Lord Chetwynd, “we none of us are able to explain the meaning of this disaster—for such I take it to be.”“Will somebody help me off with this hat?” cried Lord Fitzbogleton, his voice sounding like some pantomimist behind a mask, only a little more muffled.Two or three gentlemen hastened to the unfortunate nobleman’s assistance, and after several efforts the hat was removed.“Now, then, we shall be able to learn something about the accident,” said Captain Crasher.“I know nothing about it, no more than you do,” returned Fitzbogleton.“James,” said Lady Marvlynn, “what is the meaning of this? You are wounded and bleeding.”“Yes, my lady; I am cut about terribly.”“So he is, poor man. Oh, how very dreadful!” chorused half-a-dozen fair beauties.“Dweadful indeed,” said Fitzbogleton. “It’s a mercy I’ve escaped with my life. As it is, I am not at all sure my head is still on my shoulders. But where—oh, where is Awabella?”“In the next room. Go and see how she is—there’s a good man,” said the hostess.His lordship went at once.“Now, James, tell me how this occurred—but you are bleeding, and perhaps seriously hurt.”“It’s the glass, my lady, but I’ve picked out all the pieces I could find. And who is this strange person?” said his mistress, glancing at Peace.“He’s been the cause of it all, my lady. He’s a robber, a thief, a burglar, and I caught him taking a lot of jewellery from one of the upstair rooms. I rushed forward and collared him, then he threw himself out of the window, and I had a hard job to hold him.”“And did you let him go after that?” inquired Crasher.“No, sir, I wasn’t likely to do that. I stuck to him and he pitched himself backwards. I lost my balance, and we both fell through the conservatory.”“Well, I never heard of such a thing—a burglar in the house, a ruffian of this nature in our midst,” ejaculated Sir Eric Batershall. “But you’ve done your duty and deserve the highest possible praise.”Peace, who had by this time partially recovered, heard the latter part of the conversation; he deemed it prudent, however, to remain as if insensible.He had a large bump on the back of his head, and was in great pain, but he bore this without even a groan or sigh.“You had better have your wounds dressed, James,” said Lady Marvlynn, “after which you will be able to give us a more lucid and detailed description of all that has taken place.”A medical gentleman who happened to be one of the party made an examination of Mr. Jones’s injuries, which he said were fortunately but of a superficial nature. When this had been done he turned his attention to the other patient.Charles Peace was lifted up and placed on his legs, whereupon he uttered a deep groan.“Perhaps he is mortally wounded, poor fellow,” cried Miss Fagg.“Poor fellow, indeed!” exclaimed several. “A scoundrel like him is not worthy of sympathy.”But Charles Peace, beyond the bump on his head and divers and sundry other bruises, was not so very bad after all, but he pretended to be at death’s door.This was done in the first place to excite sympathy, and in the next to gain time.“We shall have to attend to this man,” said the doctor. “After which you will hand him over to the officers of justice, I presume.”This last query was addressed to Lady Marvlynn.“Oh, yes, of course. I suppose so.”“You have no other alternative, my lady,” said Sir William Leathbridge. “The case is clear enough against him. Some of the articles he has purloined have been taken from his pocket.”“Ah, just so. Dear me, what an extraordinary thing that a burglary should have been carried out while so many persons were in the house.”Peace had a plaister put upon his head by his medical attendant, and pretended to be so seriously injured otherwise that he could scarcely walk.He was left for a few moments in the conservatory, in which were two or three young ladies of the company, who remained, possibly, to have a good look at so celebrated a character, for they felt certain he was celebrated, although none present had the faintest notion who he was.He crept towards the door of the conservatory, unfastened it, and then flew across the grounds, in the rear of lady Marvlynn’s house.“He’s gone!” cried the ladies, “gone! We thought he could not move.”“Gone!” exclaimed James Jones. “The scoundrel!” And away the wounded footman went to give chase to the fugitive.Peace soon convinced his pursuer that he was fleet of foot. He ran round the grounds and made for the side gate.Jones, who soon guessed his intention, sought to intercept him—which he succeeded in doing before he gained the gate.
While Professor Mainwaring had been relating the foregoing adventure, Lord Fitzbogleton and Arabella Lovejoyce had strolled through the suite of rooms, engaged in close converse.
The young nobleman, who was greatly taken with the lovely Arabella, evidently desired atete-à-tetewith the fascinating creature.
It is true she cared but little about his attentions—indeed she did not in any way offer him encouragement, and felt more disposed to view the matter in a humorous light than otherwise; but she was like most women—pleased at being made much of by one who seemed to be an admirer.
His lordship could not at present be looked upon in the light of a lover, though it must be confessed that he appeared to be fast approaching that delightful and beautiful state of existence.
He was evidently spooney on Miss Lovejoyce—that is the correct term—albeit it may be a little too expressive.
They sauntered from room to room, roved like butterflies from flower to flower—discoursed on the several articles of virtu which came upon view as they passed along, and being a great admirer of the products of nature, Lord Fitzbogleton, naturally enough, was attracted by a choice collection of exotic plants which were displayed in such admirable order within the conservatory abutting out from the furthermost apartment.
It was equally natural also that he should wish his fair companion to admire the choice flowers as well as himself.
Lord Fitzbogleton had not a very strong voice; indeed, it might be said to be weak. He had, moreover, a slight lisp. This is rather pleasing than otherwise in a female, provided she be young and pretty, but it cannot be deemed a recommendation to one of the sterner sex.
But, despite all these little drawbacks, his lordship was a thoroughly good-natured man, and good-hearted as well, and this is saying a great deal just now, seeing how few possess either of these qualifications.
When the young people had gained the conservatory Lord Fitzbogleton, after passing his remarks on the plants before him and discoursing on their various properties, and which country they were indigenous to, he looked into the face of his companion.
He intended to convey by the look unutterable things, but its eloquence was lost upon his companion.
“Now, I don’t know what you think, Miss Lovejoyce, but I call this the most pleasant part of the day. I have never felt so happy as at the present moment.”
“I am glad to hear you say so,” observed Arabella, looking intently, with the eye of a connoisseur, at the magnificent bloom of a cactus.
“You are? By Jove, that’s wery wemarkable! I hope and trust the feeling is wecipwocal. Indeed, I feel assured it is.”
“Oh, certainly, I hope so,” returned his fair companion, who, however, had great difficulty in suppressing a smile.
“Well, you know, I am not much of a fellow for argument and all that sort of thing, you know, and I can’t for a moment pwetend to tell stories and anecdotes like our fwends in the other room; still, I can appweciate a good tale if it’s well told, and like to hear fellows hold forth, but I much pwefer being alone with a cweature like—well, like yourself, Miss Lovejoyce. You understand my meaning, eh!”
“Oh! certainly, my lord—indeed, I quite understand you.”
“I hope we shall soon understand one another better,” he returned, looking into her face admiringly.
Miss Lovejoyce made no reply; she appeared to be still engaged in admiring the cactus.
“Confound it! What is there in that flower to attract so much attention?” observed her companion.
“It is very beautiful,” she returned, carelessly.
“I do not deny that. I know a fellow who grows these sort of things—takes a delight with ’em, you know. He would tell you the name and properties of any plant in the whole creation—thinks of nothing else, I do believe.”
“He is an admirer of nature’s products, doubtless, and is a man of taste, I suppose.”
“Oh, dear me, yes, but you see some how or other I pwefer animated nature.”
“Both animated and inanimate nature have their respective charms,” returned the lady.
“I dare say, but why will you be so pewerse?”
“Perverse! I do not understand you.”
“Well, now, just look here. I want you to give more attention to me. Don’t you see?” cried his lordship, glaring at her through his eyeglass.
She smiled, and replaced the pot containing the cactus in its original position.
“There,” she ejaculated, “will that satisfy you? I am all attention.”
“Oh, Miss Lovejoyce, you are a charming cweature,” said he, taking her jewelled hand within his own.
“I am afraid you are a flatterer.”
“Oh, so Lady Marvlynn said half an hour or so ago, but you are both mistaken, I am no such thing. If there is one thing, I plume myself upon more than another, it is my sincerity.”
“That is a quality which, to say the truth is rare, my lord, and therefore cannot be too highly prized.”
“You think so?”
“Most certainly, I do.”
“I am glad to hear you say so.”
“Why?”
“Because it gives me hope.”
“Hope?”
“Pwecisely; hope and confidence, for, to say the truth, as a rule I do not posses much of the latter.”
“Are you wanting in confidence then?” cried the lovely Arabella, with a wicked smile. “That is most unfortunate.”
“Yes, I admit it is a misfortune. I know a lot of fellows who have the audacity of a highwayman’s horse. Sometimes I wish I had my share of the same.”
“I don’t like men who are of too demonstrative or of too pronounced a character.”
“No more do I,” returned her admirer, “but still, you know, a fellow can’t get on in the world who is too retiring.”
“No, certainly not. It is the happy medium which is most to be desired. But what is so engaging your attention just now, my lord.”
“I was looking at this charming wing. It is very chaste in design.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes I do, indeed,” he observed looking intently at the ornament on one of her fingers. “I admire it immensely, even as I do its wearer.”
Miss Lovejoyce looked down at the tesselated pavement of the conservatory, but she made no reply.
“I’m going to beg a favour of you,” said he, after a pause.
“A favour?”
“Yes. Will you grant it?”
“I must first know what it is.”
“But you would not wefuse me?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“The nature of the request you have to make.”
“Well, I was about to say, and, ahem, it may as well be said at once. Don’t you think so?”
“Most certainly I do. Proceed, my lord.”
“Ah, yes, I will. Well, you know, it’s just this—I’ve got a wing which has been worn by the Queen of Spain. It is a rare jewel—a trinket of the choicest quality.”
“Indeed! I should like to see it.”
“I not only desire you to see it, but the favour I was about to ask is that you will accept it from my hand, and——”
“And what—the other conditions?”
“That you will wear it in remembrance of me. Do you now understand?”
“Oh, I comprehend; but at the same time, you must pardon the observation, my lord, but I do not see how I can consistently accept it as a gift.”
And why not, Miss Lovejoyce—I mean Awabella? You must let me call you Awabella—you weally must. Miss Lovejoyce seems so stiff and formal.”
“Well, call me Arabella if that pleases you better.”
“It does please me, and so it’s a bargain.”
“What’s a bargain?”
“That I am to call you by your Christian name.”
“Agreed then. It is a bargain.”
And now about the wring? You must—you will accept it.”
“I have not said so.
“Not as yet, but you intend to do so.”
“You are arriving at a hasty conclusion, my lord.”
“Not at all. So, now don’t turn away. I hope I have not offended you.”
“Oh, dear me, no; but still, at the same time, I think it would be very indiscreet on my part to receive a present from you.”
“By no means. I shall be very much hurt if you refuse. Nay, more, I won’t take a refusal.”
“For a gentleman who is so wanting in confidence your tone is somewhat dictatorial,” said she, with a merry laugh.
“It is for you to dictate, and for me to obey,” returned he.
“Very good—very good, indeed. I quite agree with you.”
“If you agree with me, I shall consider the question settled.”
“What question?”
“The wing.”
“Oh, is that all?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, my dear friend, you must allow me some brief space of time to consider the matter over. You know, my lord, we must be governed by the rules of etiquette, and, it is, therefore, for me to arrive at some satisfactory conclusion as to what is seemly and proper in a case of this sort.”
“Upon my word, Awabella, you talk more like some old sage than as a cheery and fascinating young girl. I don’t care to argue questions of this nature. Arguments are altogether out of place in—ahem—in affairs of the heart, you know.”
“In affairs of the heart, my lord?”
“Certainly. Now don’t you be so pwovoking. I do declare that I have a mind to stop your mouth with——”
He drew her towards him and kissed her passionately.
“My lord, pray don’t. What can you be thinking about?” she ejaculated.
“I think only of you, my darling Awabella—only of you,” he replied.
“I am really very sorry you should be wanting in confidence,” she returned, pouting.
“Well, I don’t care. You’ll dwive me to despewation—that’s what you’ll do.”
“It appears to me that you are half way there at the present moment. Do not be so demonstrative. Pray release me.”
He had his arm round her waist at this time, and did not seem disposed to comply with her request.
The sparkling champagne he had imbibed seemed to have endowed him with a courage which surprised both himself and his fair companion.
“I think we had better return to the concert-room,” observed Arabella.
“Ah, by no means,” said he, “we are far better here.”
“But I’m positively afraid of you, my lord. Let us return, I pray.”
“I can’t for a moment consent to such a course. No-no, my dear Awabella; you have said I might call you by that name—this is elysium. The concert-room is but earth.”
“Pray, don’t be metaphorical or poetic, for it would be more than I could bear just now.”
“You are the most tantalising, charming, bewitching creature I ever met with in the course of my life. Oh, Awabella, tell me, dearest, if you have any wegard for me?”
“How can you ask such a ridiculous question?”
“Widiculous, my charmer!” ejaculated Lord Fitzbogleton. “You surely do not for a moment imagine I am jesting?”
“I don’t know what to think; you have taken me so by surprise.”
“Ah, ah, endeavoured to carry the fortress by storm, as our friend Smithers Smythe would say, but you must allow me the privilege,” and here he snatched another kiss.
“It’s very wrong and altogether improper,” cried Arabella. “If you don’t desist I shall be offended—indeed I shall; and when I am once offended I must tell you frankly I am not likely to forget—I won’t say forgive, but certainly I shall not forget.”
“Now you are angwy.”
“I am not very well pleased with you, I candidly confess.”
“You do not like me, then?”
“I have not said that. You will please me better by being a little more reasonable. I do not care about so much ardour and impetuosity, and for this reason I doubt its sincerity. Now don’t be angry—I do not mean to offend you.”
“You cannot do that. I love you too much.”
“Love me?”
“Yes, that is what I said.”
“Well, my lord, I am bound to believe you.”
“And what say you?”
“At present I do not choose to say anything. So let that pass.”
“Not say anything?”
“No, certainly not. I am a free agent and reserve to myself the right of placing my affections on the man I deem worthy of them.”
“And am I not worthy of them?”
“I do not say you are not.”
“But you will not say I am. Is that what you mean?”
“As time goes on I shall be better able to judge. A fortress may be carried by storm, I suppose, but it would be indeed a vain attempt to gain the heart of a woman by any such means—certainly not my heart. I only speak of myself.”
“I have no desire to attempt such a course of action,” observed the young nobleman, in an altered and more subdued tone. “Pardon me. I ask your pardon,” he ejaculated, falling on one knee before his companion.
“Rise, my lord, pray rise; you would not like to be caught by any of the company in this supplicating position.”
“I will not wise until you tell me you forgive me,” cried he.
“I do forgive you. Be satisfied with that declaration.”
Lord Fitzbogleton found out that he was no match for his fair enslaver, whose force of character was far beyond his own. He arose and looked a little foolish. Most men do when they meet with a reproof or a rebuff under similar circumstances.
“You are weally most exacting and hard-hearted,” said he, “but, possibly, I have been to blame; but I am sure you will take a merciful view of the case. Now tell me, dearest Arabella, if you feel disposed to take compassion on me. Hang it, but I am a poor hand at pleading my own cause—don’t you think so?”
“I hardly know what reply to give to such a question,” she observed with a witching smile.
“I am sure you think so, only you don’t like to acknowledge it. Come, dearest, let us be friends.”
“We are friends, and true ones I hope.”
“That’s kind of you to say that. I mustn’t, of course, I mustn’t. I mean I must keep at a respectful distance—eh?”
She laughed again. “I cannot be angry with you, my lord. Indeed, there is no reason for my being so, seeing that you are so candid—and at the same time so very affectionate.”
“Hang it all!—don’t chaff a fellow. Nobody likes to be made a fool of, you know.”
“Certainly not, my lord; and I am not likely to attempt such a thing. And, indeed, I feel perfectly well convinced that I should not succeed if I made the attempt. I both esteem and admire you.”
“You admire me—eh?”
“Yes, I see many things to admire in you.”
“What are they?”
“Well, in the first place you’re remarkably good-natured, and you have, I believe, a good temper; in addition to which I believe you are sincere—at least I hope so.”
“Say you are sure of it,” he cried quickly.
“As far as I am able to judge at present, I feel assured of it. Will that satisfy you?”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.
The conversation was continued for some time after this, but we must for the present leave the young people to themselves to pay a visit to one of the upper apartments of the widow’s house.
While Lady Marvlynn’s guests were engaged in conversation in the concert-room, and Lord Fitzbogleton was engaged in whispering soft nothings into the ear of the fascinating Arabella Lovejoyce, a far different scene was taking place in a chamber above.
James Jabez Jones, her ladyship’s footman, was sent up by one of his fellow-servants for his mistress’s fan, for her ladyship by this time began to feel the heat oppressive. She had had a day of considerable toil and anxiety, and was consequently in what might be termed a state of flustration.
Now, when Mr. Jones ascended the stairs, in search of the fan in question, he was a little surprised at hearing a sort of subdued noise in one of the upstair rooms.
James Jones was a cautious, careful man—so when the sounds, which were altogether new and strange to him, fell upon his ears, he came to a sudden halt and listened more intently.
Some one was evidently moving about in an adjoining apartment: of that he felt perfectly well assured.
Who could it be? was the very natural question he asked himself. Not any one of the visitors, for they were all below—probably it might be one of the maid servants. The door of the room was partially open, and through the crevice of this he peeped in. He then saw the figure of a man moving about in what he deemed a stealthy manner.
Mr. Jones was surprised—indeed, it might be said astounded.
From what he could make out, the person in the room was a short elderly man, with a long coat and a sort of wide-awake hat.
“Haint up to no good, I fancy,” murmured James Jones; “leastways that’s my ’pinion. Who the devil can he be, and what brings him here?”
He peered through the crevice of the door, and saw the suspicious-looking party lay his hands on some trinkets, and place them in one of the capacious pockets of his coat.
“Well, I’m blowed,” murmured the astonished footman, “if this ere don’t take the wind out of me entirely. Why, hang it, the fellow’s a thief or a burglar, as sure as my name’s Jones! I’m blest if he aint and no mistake—the audacious circumventing scoundrel!”
It was as plain as a pikestaff—the man was possessing himself of what property he could lay his hands on; that was too evident.
Mr. Jones was a man of Patagonian proportions—he was tall, and proportionately stout, with a broad pair of shoulders, and unexceptionable calves.
In point of fact, he considered himself to be one of the chief ornaments of the household; but despite his stalwart frame and athletic limbs, he was what one might term “knocked silly” for a brief space of time.
The situation in which he found himself was altogether an exceptional one.
He was calmly contemplating a burglar or professional thief at work, and James Jones was, as a matter of course, for the moment dumfounded.
The audacity of the man was beyond all bounds.
How he had contrived to effect an entrance into the apartment in question was a matter the puzzled footman could not determine, but it was plainly demonstrated that he was there.
“Well I never!” exclaimed Jones. “It seems altogether impossible, and surpasses all belief, the contemptible, despicable little thief.”
The reader will doubtless be in no way surprised when we signify that the robber to whom the footman alluded was none other than our old acquaintance, Charles Peace, who, taking advantage of the family gathering at Lady Marvlynn’s, had crept into the house to do a little business on his own account while the festivities were at their height, and had it not been for the little incident of the fan would in all probability have escaped notice, and got clear off without anybody being the wiser. As it was, however, the chances were against him.
Mr. Jones opened the door and entered the apartment.
“Now, then, sir, what are you doing here?” he suddenly exclaimed.
Peace, whose back was towards the speaker, turned round and looked at the footman.
“You audacious thieving scoundrel!” exclaimed the latter.
“Stand back!” cried Peace. “If you don’t, it’ll be the worse for you!”
As he uttered these words he drew from his pocket a life-preserver, which he held menacingly forward.
James Jabez Jones was a brave man. To be threatened and insulted by a contemptible little wretch like Peace was more than he could stand.
He rushed at once forward and laid hold of the burglar, who deftly slipped from his grasp, and then with a cat-like spring made for the half opened window of the bedroom.
Jones, who had not been prepared for this show of activity uttered a growl of dissatisfaction, and in his turn flew towards the window.
Once more he laid his hands upon the culprit. Peace, who was at this time kneeling on the sill of the window, preparatory to springing out, now found his situation a desperate one.
He struck out with his life-preserver, but from the position he occupied was unable to use it with anything like effect. With one hand James Jones fairly grasped the collar of Peace’s coat, and with the other he held the wrist of the burglar to prevent him from inflicting any more blows with his weapon.
A determined struggle now took place, and our hero, much to his chagrin, found that he was in the grasp of a formidable and powerful antagonist.
“You just let go, you d——d fool,” cried he, foaming with passion.
“Not if I know it,” returned James Jones. “No, my little beauty, don’t think to get off, because it’s time your game was put a stop to. So you are the chap as has been committing all these robberies. Glad to make your acquaintance. There’s a good many as will be glad to see you.”
“Are there?” cried Peace. “Are there, you ugly dirty flunkey.”
He hardly knew what to say bitter enough, but he was determined to run any risk rather than be taken prisoner, and had he happened at this time to be possessed of his revolver, the chances would have been that James Jabez Jones would have received the contents of one or more barrels: but he was without that useful weapon, and bitterly deplored this fact.
Jones stuck to him like a leech, and the burglar found it impossible to flee himself from his grasp.
Below him was the roof of the conservatory, in which Lord Fitzbogleton and Arabella Lovejoyce were conversing, altogether heedless of the scene that was taking place above them.
Peace threw his legs off the window-sill, electing to trust to chance. He then hung suspended therefrom, held only by the powerful arms of the footman, who strove to lift him up and drag him on to the sill.
This, however, he found to be an impossibility. Still, he was not disposed to give up the struggle as hopeless.
Peace kept twisting and turning about, in the hope of wearing out his tormentor, and, to say the truth, Mr. Jones soon gave symptoms of distress, as they say in the sporting world; but, to his infinite credit, however, he stuck manfully to his colours, or rather his “man.”
Peace placed one of his knees against the wall of the house, and then threw the upper portion of his body backwards.
This had the effect of forcing Mr. Jones partly through the window. Indeed, he was nearly coming through bodily, so sudden and artful had been his opponent’s movement.
It aint no good, you spiteful little reptile,” cried the footman. “You aint a going to get off—so don’t think it.”
“Aint I,” sneeringly returned our hero, making such a hideous grimace that the flunkey felt perfectly disgusted, “aint I, Mr. Yellowplush? We’ll see presently. Oh, Lord, I wish I had——” he paused suddenly.
“Yes, I dare say you do wish you were on the top of a Brixton bus—eh?”
“Don’t you be so cheeky, Mr. Yellowplush, “cause you see I aint accustomed to give in to the likes of you.”
“Aint you?”
“No, I aint, old ugly mug,” returned Peace, making a still more hideous grimace.
“You’d do very well to grin through a horse collar, you would,” remarked Jones. “Why don’t you try it? It’s a much more respectable line of business than prigging, I should say.”
Mr. Jones found his strength giving way. He did not like to leave go—nevertheless he called out for assistance.
At this particular time a grand piece was being performed by Signor Maronski and two of his pupils, and it was of so furious a character that the dulcet voice of James Jabez Jones was drowned thereby.
Nevertheless, when our hero heard the footman shout out he was perfectly furious and driven almost to desperation.
He placed both knees against the brickwork and gave his body a sudden and violent jerk. The effect was magical.
James Jabez Jones lost his equilibrium, and he and the burglar fell together in a deadly grasp.
A crash followed immediately; the glass of the greenhouse was shivered into a thousand fragments, and two men fell upon the tesselated pavement. In their passage pots and flowers were upset, and worse than all the hat worn by Lord Fitzbogleton was forced over his eyes, where it remained like an extinguisher, his lordship at the same time being knocked over by the concussion, and a scene took place which I shall find it difficult to describe.
In the first place Arabella Lovejoyce, who was under the impression that a thunderbolt had fallen, uttered a series of piercing screams. The company in the further room rose from their seats and rushed pell-mell towards the spot from whence the sounds proceeded, and in a moment the green-house and the adjoining room were filled with people with anxious and inquiring faces.
The charming Arabella fainted in the arms of Major Smithers Smythe; on the hard pavement of the conservatory lay Charles Peace, stunned and motionless, and at a short distance from him was the prostrate form of James Jabez Jones, with pieces of glass sticking in his unmentionables, and his white stockings stained with blood from the same cause.
Poor fellow, his appearance was rueful in the extreme, but he was not reduced to a comatose state, albeit he was terribly bruised, and was aching in every limb.
Lord Fitzbogleton was making desperate efforts to get his head out of his hat, but at present had not been successful. The broken flower-pots were strewn around in confusion, and the wreck was altogether perfectly appalling.
“For mercy’s sake, gentlemen, do tell me what is the matter,” cried Lady Marvlynn. “What dreadful accident has occurred? And my poor dear Arabella,” she murmured, as she caught sight of her protegee; “pray bring her into the house, major, and let the dear girl be attended to. Oh! merciful heaven, but this is indeed dreadful.”
Arabella Lovejoyce was carried into the house, and placed upon one of the couches, where restoratives were applied.
Lady Marvlynn returned to the conservatory.
“What is the matter?” she again cried, in a beseeching tone. “For mercy’s sake do speak, some one of you, and explain this dreadful business!”
“My dear Lady Marvlynn,” said Lord Chetwynd, “we none of us are able to explain the meaning of this disaster—for such I take it to be.”
“Will somebody help me off with this hat?” cried Lord Fitzbogleton, his voice sounding like some pantomimist behind a mask, only a little more muffled.
Two or three gentlemen hastened to the unfortunate nobleman’s assistance, and after several efforts the hat was removed.
“Now, then, we shall be able to learn something about the accident,” said Captain Crasher.
“I know nothing about it, no more than you do,” returned Fitzbogleton.
“James,” said Lady Marvlynn, “what is the meaning of this? You are wounded and bleeding.”
“Yes, my lady; I am cut about terribly.”
“So he is, poor man. Oh, how very dreadful!” chorused half-a-dozen fair beauties.
“Dweadful indeed,” said Fitzbogleton. “It’s a mercy I’ve escaped with my life. As it is, I am not at all sure my head is still on my shoulders. But where—oh, where is Awabella?”
“In the next room. Go and see how she is—there’s a good man,” said the hostess.
His lordship went at once.
“Now, James, tell me how this occurred—but you are bleeding, and perhaps seriously hurt.”
“It’s the glass, my lady, but I’ve picked out all the pieces I could find. And who is this strange person?” said his mistress, glancing at Peace.
“He’s been the cause of it all, my lady. He’s a robber, a thief, a burglar, and I caught him taking a lot of jewellery from one of the upstair rooms. I rushed forward and collared him, then he threw himself out of the window, and I had a hard job to hold him.”
“And did you let him go after that?” inquired Crasher.
“No, sir, I wasn’t likely to do that. I stuck to him and he pitched himself backwards. I lost my balance, and we both fell through the conservatory.”
“Well, I never heard of such a thing—a burglar in the house, a ruffian of this nature in our midst,” ejaculated Sir Eric Batershall. “But you’ve done your duty and deserve the highest possible praise.”
Peace, who had by this time partially recovered, heard the latter part of the conversation; he deemed it prudent, however, to remain as if insensible.
He had a large bump on the back of his head, and was in great pain, but he bore this without even a groan or sigh.
“You had better have your wounds dressed, James,” said Lady Marvlynn, “after which you will be able to give us a more lucid and detailed description of all that has taken place.”
A medical gentleman who happened to be one of the party made an examination of Mr. Jones’s injuries, which he said were fortunately but of a superficial nature. When this had been done he turned his attention to the other patient.
Charles Peace was lifted up and placed on his legs, whereupon he uttered a deep groan.
“Perhaps he is mortally wounded, poor fellow,” cried Miss Fagg.
“Poor fellow, indeed!” exclaimed several. “A scoundrel like him is not worthy of sympathy.”
But Charles Peace, beyond the bump on his head and divers and sundry other bruises, was not so very bad after all, but he pretended to be at death’s door.
This was done in the first place to excite sympathy, and in the next to gain time.
“We shall have to attend to this man,” said the doctor. “After which you will hand him over to the officers of justice, I presume.”
This last query was addressed to Lady Marvlynn.
“Oh, yes, of course. I suppose so.”
“You have no other alternative, my lady,” said Sir William Leathbridge. “The case is clear enough against him. Some of the articles he has purloined have been taken from his pocket.”
“Ah, just so. Dear me, what an extraordinary thing that a burglary should have been carried out while so many persons were in the house.”
Peace had a plaister put upon his head by his medical attendant, and pretended to be so seriously injured otherwise that he could scarcely walk.
He was left for a few moments in the conservatory, in which were two or three young ladies of the company, who remained, possibly, to have a good look at so celebrated a character, for they felt certain he was celebrated, although none present had the faintest notion who he was.
He crept towards the door of the conservatory, unfastened it, and then flew across the grounds, in the rear of lady Marvlynn’s house.
“He’s gone!” cried the ladies, “gone! We thought he could not move.”
“Gone!” exclaimed James Jones. “The scoundrel!” And away the wounded footman went to give chase to the fugitive.
Peace soon convinced his pursuer that he was fleet of foot. He ran round the grounds and made for the side gate.
Jones, who soon guessed his intention, sought to intercept him—which he succeeded in doing before he gained the gate.