on one side, and a white great-coat buttoned up to the chin; the other shorter and stouter, with a dark-coloured wrapper. These gentlemen were facing rather our way as we came over the edge of the eminence, but turned their backs on perceiving our approach. As they did so, I remember so well each lowered his cigar suddenly with the simultaneousness of a drill. The third figure sustained the picnic character of the group, for he was repacking a hamper. He stood suddenly erect as we drew near, and a very ill-looking person he was, low-browed, square-chinned, and with a broad, broken nose. He wore gaiters, and was a little bandy, very broad, and had a closely-cropped bullet head, and deep-set little eyes. The moment I saw him, I beheld the living type of the burglars and bruisers whom I had so often beheld with a kind of scepticism in Punch. He stood over his hamper and scowled sharply at us for a moment; then with the point of his foot he jerked a little fur cap that lay on the ground into his hand, drew it tight over his lowering brows, and called to his companions, just as we passed him —“Hallo! mister. How’s this?”
“All right,” said the tall person in the white great-coat, who, as he answered, shook his shorter companion by the arm, I thought angrily.
This shorter companion turned about. He had a muffler loose about his neck and chin. I thought he seemed shy and irresolute, and the tall man gave him a great jolt with his elbow, which made him stagger, and I fancied a little angry, for he said, as it seemed, a sulky word or two.
The gentleman in the white surtout, however, standing direct in our way, raised his hat with a mock salutation, placing his hand on his breast, and forthwith began to advance with an insolent grin and an air of tipsy frolic.
“Jist in time, ladies; five minutes more and we’d a bin off. Thankee, Mrs. Mouser, ma’am, for the honour of meetin’, and more particular for the pleasure of making your young lady’s acquaintance — niece, ma’am? daughter, ma’am? grand-daughter, by Jove, is it? Hallo! there, mild’n, I say, stop packin.” This was to the ill-favoured person with the broken nose. “Bring us a couple o’ glasses and a bottle o’ curaçoa; what are you fear’d on, my dear? this is Lord Lollipop, here, a reg’lar charmer, wouldn’t hurt a fly, he Lolly? Isn’t he pretty, Miss? and I’m Sir Simon Sugarstick — so called after old Sir Simon, ma’am; and I’m so tall and straight, Miss, and slim — ain’t I? and ever so sweet, my honey, when you come to know me, just like a sugarstick; ain’t I, Lolly, boy?”
“I’m Miss Ruthyn, tell them, Madame,” I said, stamping on the ground, and very much frightened.
“Be quaite, Maud. If you are angry, they will hurt us; leave me to speak,” whispered the gouvernante.
All this time they were approaching from separate points. I glanced back, and saw the ruffianly-looking man within a yard or two, with his arm raised and one finger up, telegraphing, as it seemed, to the gentlemen in front.
“Be quaite, Maud,” whispered Madame, with an awful adjuration, which I do not care to set down. “They are teepsy; don’t seem ‘fraid.”
I was afraid — terrified. The circle had now so narrowed that they might have placed their hands on my shoulders.
“Pray, gentlemen, wat you want? weel a you ‘av the goodness to permit us to go on?”
I now observed for the first time, with a kind of shock, that the shorter of the two men, who prevented our advance, was the person who had accosted me so offensively at Church Scarsdale. I pulled Madame by the arm, whispering, “Let us run.”
“Be quaite, my dear Maud,” was her only reply.
“I tell you what,” said the tall man, who had replaced his high hat more jauntily than before on the side of his head, “We’ve caught you now, fair game, and we’ll let you off on conditions. You must not be frightened, Miss. Upon my honour and soul, I mean no mischief; do I, Lollipop? I call him Lord Lollipop; it’s only chaff, though; his name’s Smith. Now, Lolly, I vote we let the prisoners go, when we just introduce them to Mrs. Smith; she’s sitting in the carriage, and keeps Mr. S here in precious good order, I promise you. There’s easy terms for you, eh, and we’ll have a glass o’ curaçoa round, and so part friends. Is it a bargain? Come!”
“Yes, Maud, we must go — wat matter?” whispered Madame vehemently.
“You shan’t,” I said, instinctively terrified.
“You’ll go with Ma’am, young ’un, won’t you?” said Mr. Smith, as his companion called him.
Madame was holding my arm, but I snatched it from her, and would have run; the tall man, however, placed his arms round me and held me fast with an affection of playfulness, but his grip was hard enough to hurt me a good deal. Being now thoroughly frightened, after an ineffectual struggle, during which I heard Madame say, “You fool, Maud, weel you come with me? see wat you are doing,” I began to scream, shriek after shriek, which the man attempted to drown with loud hooting, peals of laughter, forcing his handkerchief against my mouth, while Madame continued to bawl her exhortations to “be quaite” in my ear.
“I’ll lift her, I say!” said a gruff voice behind me.
But at this instant, wild with terror, I distinctly heard other voices shouting. The men who surrounded me were instantly silent, and all looked in the direction of the sound, now very near, and I screamed with redoubled energy. The ruffian behind me thrust his great hand over my mouth.
“It is the gamekeeper,” cried Madame. “Two gamekeepers — we are safe — thank Heaven!” and she began to call on Dykes by name.
I only remember, feeling myself at liberty — running a few steps — seeing Dykes’ white furious face — clinging to his arm, with which he was bringing his gun to a level, and saying, “Don’t fire — they’ll murder us if you do.”
Madame, screaming lustily, ran up at the same moment.
“Run on to the gate and lock it — I’ll be wi’ ye in a minute,” cried he to the other gamekeeper; who started instantly on this mission, for the three ruffians were already in full retreat for the carriage.
Giddy — wild — fainting — still terror carried me on.
“Now, Madame Rogers — s’pose you take young Misses on — I must run and len’ Bill a hand.”
“No, no; you moste not,” cried Madame. “I am fainting myself, and more villains they may be near to us.”
But at this moment we heard a shot, and, muttering to himself and grasping his gun, Dykes ran at his utmost speed in the direction of the sound.
With many exhortations to speed, and ejaculations of alarm, Madame hurried me on toward the house, which at length we reached without further adventure.
As it happened, my father met us in the hall. He was perfectly transported with fury on hearing from Madame what had happened, and set out at once, with some of the servants, in the hope of intercepting the party at the park-gate.
Here was a new agitation; for my father did not return for nearly three hours, and I could not conjecture what might be occurring during the period of his absence. My alarm was greatly increased by the arrival in the interval of poor Bill, the under-gamekeeper, very much injured.
Seeing that he was determined to intercept their retreat, the three men had set upon him, wrested his gun, which exploded in the struggle, from him, and beat him savagely. I mention these particulars, because they convinced everybody that there was something specially determined and ferocious in the spirit of the party, and that the fracas was no mere frolic, but the result of a predetermined plan.
My father had not succeeded in overtaking them. He traced them to the Lugton Station, where they had taken the railway, and no one could tell him in what direction the carriage and posthorses had driven.
Madame was, or affected to be, very much shattered by what had occurred. Her recollection and mine, when my father questioned us closely, differed very materially respecting many details of the personnel of the villainous party. She was obstinate and clear; and although the gamekeeper corroborated