“Is he so wicked as they tell?” “Faith, child, no man could be; ’twere beyond all finite achievement, and Sir John is only human!” “But,” said she, her eyes fiercely accusing, “he—murders men!” “Not often, child,” he answered lightly. “He fights duels!” “But only when necessary.” “He hath broke poor women’s hearts!” “Only such as were cracked.” “You are his champion, it seems?” “Because he hath none other—a poor, lonely dog with a bad name, child, a solitary creature for the kicks and buffets o’ the world! Doth not your woman’s heart yearn to such?” But instead of answering she clasped his arm in sudden terror. “Look!” she whispered. “There’s something there ... moving in the shadows—a man!” “Two men, child!” he whispered back. “I’ve been watching ’em for some time.” “What ... what will they do to us?” “That depends. Art afraid, child?” “Yes ... yes——” she gasped. “Then pretend you are not—as I do! Come, step out, and go on talking.” As they walked on thus she, stealing terrified glances, saw how these vague yet sinister shapes began gradually edging towards them, nearer and nearer, crouching forms that moved on soundless feet—closer and closer, until she had a vision of sordid, skulking, ragged misery, of murderous desperation, hunger-fierce eyes, the grim silhouette of a bludgeon, the evil gleam of a stealthy knife—— And then, with sudden, swift leap, Sir John was upon them, and she saw him fronting them, a pistol thrust into each pallid, shrinking face—— “Rose!” he called. “Rose, come hither, child!” Instinctively, and despite the terror that shook her, she obeyed. “Good girl!” quoth he, with an approving nod. “I’ the right-hand pocket o’ my waistcoat you will find five or six guineas; take two and bestow ’em upon the poor rascals for affording us a sensation.” Trembling still, she carried out Sir John’s instructions, who, with a brief word and imperious gesture, commanded the astonished rogues begone. Nor did they need a second bidding, but flitted away on silent feet, though oft turning pallid faces to stare their amazement ere they vanished into the shadows whence they came. “Rose, child,” quoth Sir John, uncocking and repocketing his pistols, “I am pleased with thee. ’S heart, I’m vastly pleased with thee! I rejoice that being fearful you commanded your fear and neither shrieked, swooned, squeaked, moaned, laughed, wept or fell to a fit o’ the vapours. Thank God, child, that thou’rt a fine, buxom, lusty country wench, sound o’ wind and limb, all wholesome flesh and blood and bone——” “Oh, fie—hush and ha’ done!” she exclaimed, tossing her handsome head. “You make me sound as I were a prize cow!” “Tush!” he laughed. “I do but take your body first. As to your mind——” “I ha’ none—so never mind!” she retorted bitterly, and making the most of her stately height.