Amongst other visitors at his country seat who were there at the time
  was one Lord Scampford, a young sprig of nobility, rich, accomplished,
  but of infamous character; a gamester, and a profligate of the first
  water, who had become so enamoured of my portrait of Helen, then
  hanging on the walls of the Academy, that in his cups he swore, by
  Gumdragon, that he would search the world over to find out the
  original, and that, willy-nilly, he would make her his paramour. Likewise, he would shoot any man dead who dared to stand in his way. Turning to my friend, he asked him if he knew the painter of the work:
  and upon his answering in the affirmative, he next asked him if he
  knew the model who had sat for the picture. This my friend was unable
  to tell him, as he was ignorant himself who it was. He then asked for
  my address, and being informed I lived in Rome, he at once set out for
  Italy, and, in fact, arrived here, and called upon me at my studio,
  but was denied admittance, as I was then laid up with the fever. After
  I had recovered, I heard that he had been the round of all the
  studios, and that of every artist he had been asking if, perchance,
  they could tell him where I had got my model from. Not one of them
  knew. Shortly after his arrival I heard that he had received a letter
  which necessitated his immediate return to England. "This letter, it seems, was from his valet, a big powerful man, who
  generally accompanied him as his bully, and who aids him in his
  nefarious schemes. This man he had left behind him in England, with
  orders to scour the country for miles round about London, and to
  inform himself at every wayside inn, if the original of the picture on
  the Academy walls lived there. For a long time his search was
  fruitless. At last chance came to his aid. On one of his visits to the
  Royal Academy, just to refresh his memory of the features in the
  picture, he overheard a broadbacked old farmer, just up from the
  country, say to his wife,

  "'Why, dash my wig, Sally, if here ain't the face of dear little Helen
  Hearty, daughter of my old friend, Jack Hearty, as keeps the 'Headless
  Lady,' at the cross-roads.' "Upon hearing this, the valet stepped forward. 'Do I understand you to
  say that you know the original of this portrait?' he asked. "'Know her!' exclaimed the farmer, 'Ay, marry do I. Why she is my
  God-daughter? I've danced her on my knee since she were a kid, bless
  her heart! And now I remember, I did hear as how one o' them paintin'
  fellers--limners, they call 'em, was a puttin' up at the 'Headless
  Lady,' and a paintin' 'er likeness. Well, now, I never!--eh Sally?' "'Dear me!' remarked the valet, 'How _very_ strange! Really, this is
  _most_ interesting. Tell me, good man, what part of the country is
  this you speak of?' "'What! the hostel of the 'Headless Lady'? Why, at the
  cross-roads-parish of Littleboro', near Muddleton, on Slush
  Slopshire.' "'Ah, in that part, I see. Fine country they tell me, about there. Bracing air, good shooting--eh?' inquired the valet, as he opened his
  pocket-book and jotted down all the farmer told him. "'Yes, sir, good air, good shooting, and as fine a bit of country,
  though I ses it, as shouldn't, seeing as how its my birthplace.' "Here, the valet took out his watch, and exclaimed, 'God bless my
  soul! How time flies! Why, it's just upon one o'clock, and I had an
  appointment at twelve, on urgent business. Good-day, my friend. Good-day, Ma'am,' addressing himself to the farmer's wife, and off he
  goes. "'A pleasant, affable gentleman,' remarked the countryman to the wife
  of his bosom. "'Ah, just ain't un,' acquiesced his spouse. "That very day the valet penned a note to his lord and master, who
  returned to England in a great hurry at the news. You may imagine, my
  friend, what anxiety I feel, knowing that villain to be at large, and
  ready at any time to swoop down like a vulture into your peaceful
  dovecot and carry on his work of destruction, whilst I, being so far
  away, am unable to strike a blow in her defence. Though, God knows, I
  would willingly lay down my life, rather than that dear child should
  come to any harm. I write at once, having only just heard the news. God grant I may be in time for my warning to be of some avail. For all
  I know, the villain may be there before this letter arrives. I tremble
  at the thought. He is sure to travel in his own private coach,
  accompanied by his bully, and, doubtless, both of them will be armed
  to the teeth. You had better warn Jack Hearty at once, in order that
  he may put his daughter out of harm's way, until he has taken his
  departure. His lordship will stick at nothing--even at drugging her,
  and carrying her off insensible, and being armed, it will be dangerous
  work to oppose him. I would advise Jack Hearty, as soon as he can find
  an opportunity to extract the bullets from his horse pistols, for
  depend upon it he means mischief. This is all the advice I can give
  him. Do whatever you can to frustrate the plot of this villian, and
  write me the result. No time for more. With kind remembrances to all
  your friends, as well as to our worthy host and family,

                                    "Your anxious friend,
                                                  "VANDYKE MCGUILP." "Dear! dear! dear!" muttered Oldstone to himself. "This is terrible news
indeed. I must seek Jack Hearty at once, and inform him." Then,
thrusting the letter into his pocket, and with a troubled expression on
his face, he left the room, and beckoning to the landlord, whom he found
outside, he took him by the arm and walked with him some considerable
distance down one of the cross-roads, and read to him the latter part of
our artist's letter. The landlord looked grave and stern. "Humph," he grunted at length, "and this is all through me allowin' my
daughter's portrait to be exhibited at the Royal Academy. If I had only
known!" "Look here, Jack," said Oldstone. "This is a thing that no one could
foresee. Let us now think of the remedy." "What remedy?" asked Jack, gloomily. "Can I refuse to take a traveller
in--a nobleman, too, with a handle to his name?" "It is a desperate case, and we must be on the alert," observed
Oldstone. "I would suggest that we take Dr. Bleedem into our
confidence." "Why?" "Perhaps he may be able to administer to them both a sleeping draught on
going to bed, and whilst they are both sound asleep, you can enter their
rooms and extract the bullets from their pistols, so that if perchance
they should attempt to use them against us, we shall have nothing to
fear on that score." "The very thing!" exclaimed our host. "Let us seek the doctor at once." This was done.