Thornby’s words indicated surprise at Foxwell’s surprise. Foxwell shot a keen glance to see if the other’s surprise was genuine. There could be no doubt of that. This occasioned new surprise in Foxwell.

“Egad, sir,” said he, “I should think I might be pardoned for staring. How come they to be here? It puzzles me, I own.”

“Who here?” blurted Thornby. “This gentleman and lady, d’ye mean?”

“Ay, the gentleman and lady I’ve been in search of.”

“Why, you don’t desire to stop ’em, do you? What the deuce is little Sue Marvell to you?—and Dick Birch? Captain Marvell is no friend of yours. Rather help these young people away, if only for the joke on Dick Birch.”

“Of what are you talking?” cried Foxwell. “Can it be possible you don’t know who these young people are?”

“I don’t know much of the gentleman,” Thornby admitted; “but the girl is Sukey Marvell.”

“Sukey Marvell!—Sukey devil!” exclaimed Foxwell, and, striding up to Georgiana, he snatched the handkerchief from her face. Everell had left her standing at the end of the table, himself having moved around to Thornby’s former place a moment earlier for a purpose of his own. Checking an impulse to go to Georgiana’s side, he now stood between the magisterial chair and the table. Despite all that was at stake, he was amused at the sight of Thornby gazing with mouth wide open at the face so unexpectedly revealed.

“It seems you find reason to stare now,” said Foxwell to the Squire. “Egad, Thornby, had they bamboozled you?”

“Mr. Thornby, I hold you to your promise,” Everell put in; “a chaise, horses, and a man.”

“Chaise, horses, and damnation!” was the reply of Thornby, as he at last found a voice. “I never knew ’twas she you was a-running away with. You said ’twas Sukey Marvell.”

“Pardon me, no; you said ’twas Sukey Marvell. And I hold you to your promise.”

“HE SNATCHED THE HANDKERCHIEF FROM HER FACE.”

“Hold and be damned!—And Foxwell, you’ve deceived me, too. You said you’d persuade her to have me.”

“So I have done,” asserted Foxwell, “and she has given her consent.”

“Given her consent? Then you was the relation—and I’m the Dick Birch! What?—and this here stripling would ’a’ had me help to do myself out of a bride! Oh, you shall all pay for this among you!”

“Softly, softly, Thornby,” said Foxwell. “She has promised to marry you. Have you not, miss?”

After a brief hesitation, Georgiana uttered a reluctant “yes.”

“Then you forced the promise from her,” said Thornby.

“She gave it willingly,” returned Foxwell. “Did you not, miss?”

“Yes—willingly,” said Georgiana, in the faintest of voices.

“And yet you ran away with this here other man,” said Thornby.

“I was—carried away,” she replied, in a tone as frail as before.

“And you are still willing to marry Mr. Thornby?” said her uncle.

“Y—yes.”

Thornby’s brow cleared. “Then, ecod, not much harm’s done, after all. ’Tis all well that ends well.”

Everell again put in, addressing Thornby: “She is willing to marry you, perhaps. But ask her if she will ever love you, man.”

“Eh! Well, what about that? D’ye think you’ll ever love me, miss?”

“No, I do not, sir,” cried Georgiana, suddenly emphatic of voice. “I shall always love this gentleman! For ever, and ever, and ever!” And she moved toward the man of her choice.

Her manner of speech, her look of disdain, and Everell’s smile of triumph were too much for Thornby’s savage vanity. “Then don’t flatter yourself I’ll marry you,” he answered, with retaliatory scorn. “A white-faced vixen, when all’s said and done! Mistress of Thornby Hall, after this night’s business?—dod, I’m warned in time!”

“Oh, say it again!” exclaimed Georgiana, rejoiced.

“I do say it again! Ecod, I know my value!”

“I am freed of my promise!” she cried.

“Ay,” said Thornby, with a swelling wrath which had to be discharged upon somebody, “and your blundering uncle may go whistle.—You shall answer for this, Foxwell, d’ye hear? I’ll see to that. ’Tis all along o’ your mismanagement. But I’ll be quits wi’ ye. I’ll make use o’ that there letter!—rat me but I will!”

“You are quite unreasonable, Thornby,” said Foxwell, patiently, and, turning to his attendant, “Joseph, wait without.”

Joseph left the room, whereupon Thornby had the grace to order his own servant to be off; so that the four principals were left alone. Foxwell made sure that the door was closed against espial, and thrust into the keyhole a part of the handkerchief he had taken from Georgiana. He then returned to Thornby, who had meanwhile been fuming and pacing the floor.

“You have cause for anger, I admit,” said Foxwell; “but you are bound to own I have done my part.”

“Don’t talk to me, sir,” roared Thornby. “I’ll make you smart afore I’ve done! See if I don’t!”

Foxwell’s own temper gave way. He had been put to much exercise of self-command this evening, and had scarce yet regained his bodily composure after his ride. Of a sudden, now, his face darkened. “Then by heaven I’ll not smart alone! You shall suffer, miss,—and your lover, too! Let all come out. You say you know little of this young gentleman, Thornby. Would you know more?—who he is, what he is?”

“Uncle, you will not!” entreated Georgiana. “With my promise I bought your silence—remember that!—and I have not broken my promise. ’Tis Mr. Thornby has released me.”

“Very well. Let us stick to promises, by all means! But I have your Romeo upon other grounds.—Before you as a justice of the peace, Mr. Thornby, I charge this gentleman with the abduction of my niece.—That, too, is a hanging matter, miss.”

“Not so, Mr. Thornby,” cried Georgiana; “for, now that I am free, I go with this gentleman of my own consent. ’Tis not abduction, ’tis on my part a voluntary flight.”

“You forget you are not yet your own mistress,” said Foxwell. “Besides, the abduction has been committed. Moreover, Thornby, the gentleman has appropriated to himself a horse of mine. I demand of you to act upon these charges.”

Thornby underwent a sudden accession of magisterial dignity. “I know my office, Mr. Foxwell. Nobody has ever accused me of failing there. Sir,”—this to Everell,—“when the case is put to me in that form, I must do as my commission requires. I must needs hold you for a hearing.—I’ll send for my clerk, Foxwell; I left him at the table, but I dare say he’s still sober enough for what’s to be done.” Relapsing then into his more usual puerility, he added, “Dod, such impudent young strangers sha’n’t carry off our ladies with impunity, neither!”

Georgiana had hastened to Everell’s side. “Oh, save yourself now,” she besought him in a whisper.

“Not without you, sweet.—Gentlemen,” he cried, in time to stop Thornby’s movement toward the door, “one word. I am in a desperate position. Abduction, horse-stealing, the other business,—any one of them is the price of a halter. With but one life to lose, then, what is a crime or two more? ’Tis but getting the more value for my neck.” He took up the pistols left on the table by Thornby, who had lost all thought of them on being convinced of Everell’s honesty. Dexterously cocking them as he spoke, the young man went on: “If I must die, be sure that one or both of you shall go before me—’tis fair precedence, cedant arma tog?! But first I will have one more venture for my life—and for my love.” By this time, he had each of the gentlemen in line with a different pistol. “Mr. Thornby, move or call out, at your peril. Mr. Foxwell, the same to you; and this also: I think I can persuade you to withdraw your charges, and, furthermore, to lend me the horses that brought you and your man to this place.”

Foxwell’s only weapon at the moment was his sword; he had left his pistols outside in the holsters, thinking to spend but a minute in Thornby Hall and foreseeing no need of them there. He perceived from Everell’s manner of handling the pistols that the young man was of perfect assurance in their use. The same circumstance found speedy way to the mind of Thornby, who was unarmed. So the two gentlemen stood as they were requested. Foxwell, for want of a better temporizing answer, feigned to yield with a good grace, saying: “You present so strong an argument, that I know not how to oppose you.”

“I fear if the pistol were my only argument,” said Everell, calmly, “my victory would end as soon as my back was turned. I will try an argument that may have more lasting effect. Miss Foxwell, I must bid you pull out this drawer of the table,—stay where you are, Mr. Thornby!—which the owner has carelessly left open.” Everell moved a step to the side, giving Georgiana closer access to the drawer. She obeyed in wonder, for she had overheard little of the talk while she was in the closet, and nothing of Thornby’s allusion to that in the drawer which gave the power of keeping Mr. Robert Foxwell in his place. Everell now told her to empty the contents of the drawer upon the table, and to spread them out so that each document might be seen. “Not a step, Mr. Thornby! You, Mr. Foxwell, come near enough to see if there be anything of interest to you. That will do—no farther! Look carefully.”

Foxwell’s keen eye had already begun to range the various papers as they lay separately exposed. Suddenly he uttered a quick “Ah!” and stepped forward, reaching out. Everell checked him by a sharp “Back!” and a movement of the pistol; then followed with his glance the line of the extended arm.

“Miss Foxwell,” said Everell, “be good enough to take up the paper your uncle reached for. ’Twill be one of those three the shadow falls athwart,—the shadow of the wine-bottle;—ay, those.—Don’t move, Mr. Thornby.—Open them out, Georgiana, and hold them where I can see. H’m; apparently a legal document concerning one William Hardy. The next, please: ‘a new cure for the glanders.’ The other: a letter signed ‘R. Foxwell.’—Back, Mr. Foxwell. Is that all you see here of importance to you?—Mr. Thornby, if you take a step toward the door—! Is that all, Mr. Foxwell? I will not read it unless I am forced to.”

“That is all,” replied Foxwell, “and ’tis something Mr. Thornby has no right to possess. I ask you, as a man of honour, to restore it to me.”

“In proper time, sir. Meanwhile, Miss Foxwell, fold the paper as it was, and place it in my waistcoat pocket.—’Tis well done; though I dare not thank you, for you do this under compulsion.”

“By the Lord, sir,” Thornby burst out at last, “this here’s robbery, sir!—rank robbery under arms! You may carry it off for the moment—I’m not moving, I’m only warning you, for your own good—but this sort of thing is bound to end in a halter, sir.”

“Possibly; but, as I have said, a crime or two more can make no difference to a man in my situation. You were kind enough to tell me that in this drawer was the means of making Mr. Foxwell consider your wishes. Let us see if it will make him consider mine. Mr. Foxwell, whatever the document contains, I’m not like to use it against Georgiana’s kinsman. But if I am taken prisoner here, ’twill no doubt fall into Mr. Thornby’s hands again. Your interest, then, lies in my escape.”

“Damn Foxwell’s interest!” broke in Thornby. “I’m the man to bargain with. If you restore that letter and them pistols—’tis my property, that letter, for all he says; mine, bought and paid for, as I can prove by Jeremiah Filson—”

This name, in relation to the letter, was another surprise to Foxwell. But ere Thornby could proceed farther, Everell commanded silence.

“You are very good, Mr. Thornby, but I will not bargain with you. I will forego the chaise and horses, release you from your promise,—on condition of your entering that closet. Come, I mean it. You shall be let out in good time. ’Tis no such bad place—the lady suffered no harm there. Into the closet, if you please. I’ll return y............