“I’ll ‘incognito’ you to the end of the chapter, Sir Robin McTart,” answers Lady Peggy, clapping hand to hilt. “Very well, Sir, very well,” says the Baronet, reflecting that another corpse might cost him ten guineas more, ere he were done with it; and besides yearning for the news of His Lady which he thinks he may glean. “I’ve small stomach for fightin’ any man. Religion don’t teach us that lesson, but ’tis a devilish trick you’ve played me, Sir.” “In what way, Sir? Out with it,” replies Peggy. “You, Sir, sent me to Kennaston a-seeking Lady Peggy Burgoyne, Sir; she was from home, and not a word else could I buy or wring out of her servant’s cursed mouth. Then I hied to Kent, believing, from your fine messages to me from Her Ladyship, that she must be there at her godmother’s. No, Sir! she was not; nor could any one tell but that she was at Kennaston Castle for all they knew. Back in town post-haste, I seek Lark Lane, where her brother lodges, so I had heard, only to learn that he has gone to stop with Sir Percy de Bohun, in Charlotte Street.” “Well, you sought him there?” inquires Peg quivering with suppressed excitement. “I did not, Sir!” replies Sir Robin with emphasis. “Thank heaven!” says his companion fervently, an exclamation which may do double duty, and is well taken by the little gentleman from Kent. “No, Sir; you do not suppose, Sir, that I’m a-going to risk a life that’s dear to Lady Peggy, at the hands of a ripping brawler and sure-kill like Sir Percy, do you?” “Ah, Sir Robin,” quoth Her Ladyship. “If you knew what a consolation it would be to Lady Peggy to hear of your unwillingness to hazard your precious person in such company, ’twould ease your mind and heart.” “Look you!” whispers Sir Robin, plucking at Peg’s sleeve. “But tell me where she is? This mystery’s killing me! How fares she? Does she pine for me? and is this true?” With shaking hands Sir Robin takes from his pocket a copy of a print of the day previous, and unfolding, reads to the astonished Peg the following paragraphs. “Town’s talk is all for the very pretty quarrel betwixt Sir P——y de B——n, and the gallant and handsome Sir R——n McT——t of Kent. ’Tis all over Mayfair, and far beyond, that the cause of the dispute’s the lovely but mysterious Lady P——y B——e.” “’Slife!” interrupts Peg, catching at straws. “You now perceive, Sir Robin, why ’tis that Her Ladyship must keep her whereabouts a secret, even,” she adds with sentimental deflection, “from you. Trust me, Sir, as you would trust her, and be guided by my counsel!” Sir Robin nods vigorously, fluttering his sheet with anxious fingers. “Listen, Sir, listen, to this further.” He reads on. “Sir P——y de B——n has sworn by all that’s sacred, so ’tis said, to stick Sir R——n McT——t to the death, and serious consequences are feared.”