It was not the first time that my Lord Kilcroney and Sir Jasper had crossed blades. Indeed, Kilcroney’s mercurial temperament, and Sir Jasper’s inflammably jealous one, had come into collision more than once. In the last encounter the Irishman had had the worst of it; but to-night, whatever disability the day’s potations might have caused him was more than counter-balanced by the blind rage which possessed the baronet as he fell to his guard. Perhaps Sir Jasper had been already in none too good a temper when the novel highwayman had arrested him in the full course of elopement, certainly the countenance with which his Helen watched the encounter from the chaise window displayed more entertainment than anxiety. In fact, when Sir Jasper, receiving a neat thrust through his sword arm, fell back with a curse and a groan, it was Pamela who cried out in alarm, while Lady Selina shrilly laughed and clapped her hands. * * * * * An odd little procession towards midnight roused the slumbers of the Mitre Inn at Salisbury, with peremptory summons. Two ladies in a post-chaise, escorted by two gentlemen in a curricle. The ladies seemed to be in high dudgeon with each other. The gentlemen very friendly. Indeed, the younger and better-looking of the two (though both were personable men) was distinctly assiduous in his attention to the other, who had (as the landlord was duly informed) met with a nasty accident through the overturning of the curricle at a sharp corner, which robbed him of the use of his right arm. The post-boy had a curious tale to tell over a restoring mug of ale. But so scared and bewildered did he appear; so monstrous a jumble did he make of highwaymen and duels, that the landlord, who was a sensible man, diagnosed pure coward’s flim-flams, and promptly dismissed him to his straw. * * * * * Pamela slept late. She had been allotted the dressing-room of the superior bed-chamber which she had herself claimed for Lady Selina. Her last thought, as she snuggled down in the feather bed, had been: “I’ve got her safe, the little fool!” and the first that bore into her consciousness in the morning was the same comforting reflection: “I’ve got her safe.” Angry words had passed between the two women in the chaise last night. Though Pamela had been unable to make head or tail of the arguments produced by the “Mad Brat” to justify her conduct, every word had revealed a childish inconsequence. “One would say,” thought the milliner, as she lay, reflecting on her impressions, “that the silly chit had laid some wager, or was pretending to be wicked for the mere show off of the thing. For, if ever I saw a gentleman set down, it was Sir Jasper last night! In my opinion he was mortal glad to be out of it at the price. Never saw him so loving with my Lord! And, as for her, she looked at him like a wild cat, as she passed him by, on the way to her room.”