of his features—for a large handkerchief muffled his face—much uglier (if that were possible) than his companion. He answered to the name of Bernard Boutefeu. They had no sooner entered the shop, than Leonard locked the door.
"Who are these persons?" asked Amabel, rising in great alarm.
"Two watchmen whom I have hired to guard the house," replied Leonard.
"We are come to protect you, fair mistress," said Gregory, "and, if need be, to cut the Earl of Rochester's throat."
"Oh heavens!" exclaimed Amabel.
"Ghost of Tarquin!" cried Boutefeu, "we'll teach him to break into the houses of quiet citizens, and attempt to carry off their daughters against their will. By the soul of Dick Whittington, Lord Mayor of London! we'll maul and mangle him."
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