In case of opposition on
the way, we have our pistols. But hush! I thought I heard footsteps." "Tut! the walls are thick enough in this antique hostelry," said his
lordship. "Never fear." They little knew that there was a sliding panel high up over the
bedstead his lordship occupied, which was covered by a bad picture of
His Majesty George II. on horseback, and which could be reached by a
secret staircase within the thickness of the wall. "So that is their little game, is it?" muttered our host to himself, who
had been eavesdropping. "All right, my men, all right." CHAPTER XIII. It was the midnight hour, and the sky dark as pitch. The wind howled
dismally through the trees, and seemed to shake the very foundations of
this ancient hostelry. All the inmates of the 'Headless Lady' had
retired to rest; that is to say, all the members of the club. Our host
above was stirring, and had not yet made up his mind to go to roost. In
fact, he seemed disposed to make a night of it, and enjoy himself as
much as circumstances would permit. The wind dashed the sleet against the window panes, and the ground was
getting fast covered with snow. But our host stirred the fire, put on a
fresh log, and filled himself up a glass of his own home brewed ale. First he took a sip, then setting his glass down, he next walked
leisurely into the room adjoining for his tobacco box, with the
intention of filling his yard of clay. His back was no sooner turned
than the bulky figure of a man, in his stockinged feet, tripped lightly
across the hall, and, quick as thought, dexterously emptied a white
powder into the glass our host had left standing, then as speedily
vanished. He had hardly disappeared, when our host, suspecting nothing,
re-appeared upon the scene, and proceeded to fill his churchwarden with
some of his strongest tobacco. He then lighted his pipe by the fire, and
throwing himself into an easy chair, puffed away complacently for a
time. He was apparently musing, when, as if suddenly recollecting that
his glass was at his elbow, he raised it to his lips and drained it to
the dregs; making a wry face, as if he had just tossed off a dose of
physic. He was on the point of filling up again from the jug close at
hand, when a yawn escaped him. He had grown unaccountably sleepy. This
feeling he at first endeavored to combat by having recourse to his snuff
box, but the effect of the pungent herb was only temporary, for soon his
eyelids fell, as if weighed down with lead, and he was now snoring loud,
and as utterly oblivious as a corpse. "I've drugged the old boy," said the man in black to his master, with a
chuckle. "It's all plain sailing now. We've only got to pick the lock of
the lady's room, stuff a handkerchief in her mouth, and carry her
downstairs. The carriage is in readiness outside. Quick! Let's up and be
doing." Upstairs tripped the ruffianly bully as lightly and noiselessly as a
grasshopper, followed closely by his aristocratic patron, and in a
moment the two men stood before the chamber of the unconscious sleeper. It was locked, as they had anticipated; but with a deftness that argued
much practice in this art, the bully soon succeeded in causing the lock
to yield, and the door swung noiselessly back on its hinges. Aided by
the light of a taper, which his lordship carried, the ruffian was
enabled to make straight for the bed, and seizing the fair sleeper
roughly in his powerful arms, was in the act of rushing downstairs with
her when a shriek, so loud and piercing that it bid fair to waken the
dead, resounded through the walls of this ancient hostel, startling from
their sleep all its inmates, save our host, who was still as fast in the
arms of Morpheus as when we left him. "Damnation!" cried the bully, between his teeth, as he thrust a
handkerchief into his victim's mouth, and hurried with her towards the
hall door, whilst Lord Scampford followed close at his heels, a horse
pistol in either hand. The door of the inn was soon unbolted, and before any of the household
could hurry to the spot, the pair of scoundrels were already outside in
the bleak night air, and hailing his lordship's carriage, which now drew
up. The liveried footman had opened the door of the carriage, and in
another moment it would have closed securely upon these two arrant
scoundrels and their helpless victim, while a crack of the coachman's
whip would have carried them miles out of reach of all human opposition,
had not at this juncture something quite unforeseen occurred. [Illustration: THE DUEL]

From out the darkness a cloaked figure, with broad sombrero drawn down
tightly over his eyes, suddenly emerged, and with a well-directed blow
from a leaden-headed cane upon the bare head of the man in black, felled
the gigantic bully, who measured his full length upon the ground covered
with snow, still clasping in his arms the terrified and trembling form
of our heroine, whose shrieks of "murder" and cries for help at length
brought all the members of the club to the spot. Before they arrived, however, the mysterious stranger, who had so
opportunely come to the rescue, had succeeded in releasing Helen from
the clasp of the unconscious ruffian, and carried her inside, but not
before Lord Scampford had discharged his brace of horse pistols at
him--we need not say without any effect, save that of startling the
horses so terribly that they became perfectly unmanageable, and bolted
with the carriage, before the footman had time to spring to the box. His
lordship, finding his pistols useless, flung them from him, and drawing
his rapier, made for the stranger, who likewise drew _his_ sword, and a
skirmish ensued. At this moment all the inmates of "The Headless Lady" hurried
downstairs, half dressed, with lighted candles, and armed with what
weapons of offence they could first lay their hands upon. One carried a
torch, by the light of which the spectators could clearly note the
position of affairs. Lord Scampford and the Unknown were still in the
thick of the fray, and appeared well matched, when suddenly an opening
presented itself, and the sword of the Unknown pierced the heart of his
lordship, who fell back lifeless on the snow. The greatest confusion reigned. Questions were asked on all hands, and
no one seemed to be wiser than his neighbour, yet the main facts of the
case were apparent to all. Helen had retreated hurriedly to her chamber,
and locked herself in afresh. Our host seemed not yet sufficiently
conscious to be able to take in the situation. It was not till the small
hours of the morning that each returned to his bed. On looking round for
the stranger he had vanished. *       *       *       *       *

Now, it will readily be imagined that at the breakfast table next
morning, at which our members assembled rather late, little else was
discussed save the adventures of the previous night. "The scoundrels!" thundered out Mr. Oldstone, with an indignant snort. "The villains!"