“Ah!” cries Lady Peggy, overjoyed to hear anything that may serve to keep the little Baronet and Sir Percy from meeting. “’Tis a gentleman of his word, I promise you. Better get back at once to Robinswold, and let London and Sir Percy gallop to the devil, an they see fit!” “Nay,” replies the one addressed. “Not I, Sir Incognito. It is not for a McTart to turn his back on danger, but the rather,” and here by the fish-oil gleam, the little gentleman’s squint eyes leer cunningly up into Her Ladyship’s face: “The rather,” continues he, glancing cautiously around, “take measures to protect myself.” “Very commendable of you, Sir Robin, by my faith,” cries Peggy, although she shudders, now linking her arm in her companion’s, and assuming an air of easy confidence, by the which she hopes to ensnare him into a complete revelation of his plans. “Since you go armed, and are, I doubt not, a master in the art of self-defense, what have you to fear from Sir Percy de Bohun?” “True,” responds the Baronet, with a reservation to himself and no mind at all to proceed any further with his revelations. “Gad! Sir, a fellow like that,” clutching at the newspaper stuck among his ruffles, “ain’t to be trusted as long as he’s above the ground. I swear, Sir! I fear to walk abroad and hold myself housed at my inn in Pimlico, close, not daring to show my face. A ruffian that’s publicly printed as seekin’ life’d stick me in the back in the dark, an he got the chance.” “Nay, nay, Sir Robin,” says Peg, up for her sweetheart, “he’s not that sort of a gentleman—but, look you, keep close, frequent neither club, coffee or chocolate-house, or rout or drum; eschew Vauxhall, Richmond and the play-house, or any likely place where bucks gather, for trust me, Sir, an you do meet Sir Percy, there’ll be the devil to pay, and his blade’s his obedient slave.” Poor Peg! She has not only to protect Percy of his life, but, as before, to prevent any discovery of her usurpation of the little Baronet’s name. “Curse him! I fear him not!” responds this one, his itching fingers twisting about the empty purse in his pocket. “But of Her Ladyship, Sir Go-between?” adds he presently, as they emerge upon the broader and better lighted road. “’Pon my life, but to so find myself the hero of a romantic passion with the Lady secluded in a mystery, a nobleman thirsting for my blood, a nameless gentleman playin’ Mercury betwixt me and my fair, ’tis amazing, Sir! prodigious amazing!” Sir Robin struts and takes snuff very comfortably, since he has got out of a very dangerous environment. Peg’s soul sickens within her as she listens to him. “Tell me now, how fares she?” “Not so well,” answers she. “You’ve seen her?” “Not I.” “Are like to?” “No, Sir.” “You can convey messages to her by some fond way she’s planned to get her news of me, eh?” “I can, Sir Robin.” “Sir, whoever you are, for pity’s sake, tell me where is she?” “Not far, Sir.”