"What's that I hear?" shouted the figure, in an altered tone. "Married to her! then Luke _is_ legitimate, and heir to this estate!" Whereupon the apparition rushed to the table, and laid a very substantial grasp upon the document. "A marriage certificate!" ejaculated the spectre; "here's a piece of luck! It ain't often in our lottery life we draw a prize like this. One way or the other, it must turn up a few cool thousands." "Restore that paper, villain," exclaimed Lady Rookwood, recovering all the audacity natural to her character the instant she discovered the earthly nature of the intruder--"restore it, or, by Heaven, you shall rue your temerity." "Softly, softly," replied the pseudo-phantom, with one hand pushing back the lady, while the other conveyed the precious document to the custody of his nether man--"softly," said he, giving the buckskin pocket a slap--"two words to that, my lady. I know its value as well as yourself, and must make my market. The highest offer has me, your ladyship; he's but a poor auctioneer that knocks down his ware when only one bidder is present. Luke Bradley, or, as I find he now is, Sir Luke Rookwood, may come down more handsomely." "Who are you, ruffian, and to what end is this masquerade assumed? If for the purpose of terrifying me into compliance with the schemes of that madman, Luke Bradley, whom I presume to be your confederate, your labor is misspent--your stolen disguise has no more weight with me than his forged claims." "Forged claims! Egad, he must be a clever hand to have forged that certificate. Your ladyship, however, is in error. Sir Luke Rookwood is no associate of mine; I am his late father's friend. But I have no time to bandy talk. What money have you in the house? Be alive." "You _are_ a robber, then?" "Not I. I'm a tax-gatherer--a collector of Rich-Rates--ha, ha! What plate have you got? Nay, don't be alarmed--take it quietly--these things can't be helped--better make up your mind to do it without more ado--much the best plan--no screaming, it may injure your lungs, and can alarm nobody. Your maids have done as much before--it's beneath your dignity to make so much noise. So, you will not heed me? As you will." Saying which, he deliberately cut the bell-cord, and drew out a brace of pistols at the same time. "Agnes!" shrieked Lady Rookwood, now seriously alarmed.