"Why, now we come to the best story of all," cried the fair newsmonger. "On his way to the ball, Lord Beachcombe was waylaid by Robin Freemantle and a band of ruffians, who carried him off—carriage, servants and all complete—to a secret cavern and left him there for several hours, having robbed him of his mask and domino and borrowed his invitation and his carriage!" "The devil!" ejaculated Sir Geoffrey, suddenly very much enlightened. "Fie, Sir Geoffrey; you should leave such remarks to our poor friend Beachcombe, when he discovered, this morning, the purpose for which his disguise had been taken." "But he was there; I spoke with him," said Prue, feeling the color ebb from her cheeks and surreptitiously trying to pinch some of it back. "Did I not see you supping with him?" retorted Lady Barbara archly. "I refrained from dwelling upon that subject to my poor friend, Lady Beachcombe, but I saw what I saw! Before midnight his property was restored and he was set free. He hastened to the ball, and doubtless he would have done much better to go straight home, eh, Sir Geoffrey?" "He seemed in a bad humor," said Prue reflectively, "but not more so than usual." "He might well be in a bad humor. It appears that he was instrumental in getting Robin Freemantle pardoned when he was in Newgate, condemned to be hanged." "That is strange!" Peggie exclaimed. "’Tis the first time I ever heard tell of a charitable act of his!" "’Twill be the last, no doubt; the man is an ingrate. His first use of his liberty was to steal his benefactor’s mask and domino, and under cover of them to rob the queen’s Majesty. Oh! ’tis outrageous!" Lady Barbara ran on volubly. "But he will be punished; and speedily." She became mysterious. "His retreat is known. When Beachcombe questioned his servants and added his own suspicions to theirs, he came upon important clues, and when I left he was going to place them in the hands of the authorities, from whom this miscreant will certainly not be rescued a second time—by him!" "Or by any one else, it is devoutly to be hoped," remarked Sir Geoffrey; "don’t you agree with me, Lady Prudence?" "You played thief-taker before, Sir Geoffrey," she retorted, with unaccustomed acrimony. "You should offer your services again; his escape would then be impossible." "Quite impossible!" cried Lady Barbara, who only caught the last words. "His home will be surrounded by soldiers, and he will be lodged in the Tower, when they catch him." "Do they send soldiers to catch a highwayman?" inquired Peggie. "And why the Tower?" objected Lady Drumloch. "Methought that was reserved for gentlemen; ’tis too much honor for robbers and footpads. Will they also behead this person; like a gentleman?"