“What! eloped? Scuttled! Flown the nest! When? How? Where?” cries Sir Percy’s man thunder-struck. “She ain’t gone with Sir Percy! Can it be with Sir Robin McTart?” Chockey shook her head vigorously. “Look a-here,” says Mr. Grigson, now regarding the girl attentively. “Damme, but you knows where she is. Tell me and I’ll give you two kisses and ten pounds to boot.” “Oh, Sir!” cries Chock, pushing away both kisses and pounds with one and the same hand. “I does know; leastways I knows my young lady’s up in London, but whereabouts in that pit of sin and willainy, I can’t say, nor who she’s with, nor how long she’s goin’ to stop; only she charged me make His Lordship and Her Lady mother believe she was gone to Kent, back again to see her godmother. There! I’ve been bursting to tell some one, and you’ll swear you’ll keep it secret, won’t you, Sir?” Grigson obligingly nods and caresses Chock’s arm. “Thank the Lord it’s out o’ me!” adds she. “Amen,” ejaculates Sir Percy’s man with fervor, at the same time fixing a contemplative and shrewd eye on his companion. “Her Ladyship up in town,—where, with whom, you doesn’t know; her father and mother thinks she’s in Kent; and you’re cock-sure she ain’t runned away with Sir Robin McTart?” “That I am!” cries the girl, warmly. “Little squint-eyed monster!” “Eh?” exclaims Mr. Grigson, who had beheld the supposed Sir Robin at Kennaston’s rooms the night before last, and clearly recollected that no such description fitted the slim, elegant, handsome young buck who had got a prick in the wrist from his own master’s rapier. “Monster! I said,” repeats the girl. “Hist, I’ll tell you more,” says she, drawing close, hand over mouth. “You’ve seen the puppy. He was here anon, a-askin’ and a-tearin’ as to where My Lady was!” Grigson stares. “Aye, you must have met him on the road not ten rods off the Castle gates, for, as you galloped in, the undersized cockatrice cantered out. Lady Peggy wed with him, indeed!” Grigson is now (recalling his having crossed a small squint-eyed gentleman as he came) morally certain that Chockey has been well drilled in her part, and that Lady Peggy has indeed run away up to London with Sir Robin McTart. So much for his thoughts; he says: “I did. Fortunately I beheld the personage what you describes. Your humble servant, missus. I must be off and no time for love-makin’ to-day,” turning quickly on his heel and tossing sixpence to Bickers who holds his bridle at the stone. “I ain’t ‘missus,’” remarks she plaintively. “But you will be some day, lass, or my name ain’t James Grigson. Here’s to you and many thanks for putting me on the right track!” “Tush, Sir! For the love of heaven and of anybody else you thinks a deal of, find my young lady!” “Trust me,” flings Mr. Grigson from his saddle. “I’ll find her and him as holds her in durance wile!”