“What sort of bag, man; and what became of it?” “Oh! how can I say?--Yes; I know. ’Twas a canvas thing of my sister’s; that I stole and brought home again; and she rated me that I had appropriated it, for ’twas the one in which she conveyed her treasures to the lodge--the very bag, indeed, she found there and used to stuff her relics into before she escaped last night.” “Where is it?” “Indeed, I have no notion, sir.” “What was its colour?” “It had stripes of pale red, I only remember.” “Find it, if you can, and bring it to me.” “Now, sir, now. You think the stone may have escaped into it? It hath been in their hands, sir, down there. It is not possible.” “Go, at least, and look.” He resumed his monotonous walk. A desperate impatience to somehow end all this overbearing insolence of circumstance raged in his veins. But Fate must still be nagging at him like a hot wife. He heard the door opened and thought it was Whimple returned. It was Sir David, however, who stepped primly down and came up with a stony face to the poor man. “Miss Royston is recovered?” said Tuke. “The shock dwells with her. The wound is superficial. She is seated with Lord Dunlone for distraction of her thoughts.” “Ah! women will dare bold remedies.” “Not less than men, sir, when they suffer a midsummer madness.” “Blythewood, let us, for Heaven’s sake, be quit of mysteries! You want to quarrel, as I understand, and I’m in no mood to baulk you. What is another sting in this general attack of hornets? Only give me the pretext, man--as to which I swear I’m in a wood of bewilderment.” “I’ll speak plain enough for an adder to hear. Didn’t you ask my favour to your suit with my sister?” “Certainly you put the question to me.” “Need I say more? Was this late insult a calculated one? I know nothing of the claims of the lady, or as to how far her services may warrant your condescension; but----” “You have gained your object. Not another word, man; unless you wish to fight over a handkerchief here and now. The matter can be arranged when our responsibilities to these innocent folks are happily decided.” The little baronet bowed. “I regret you have forced me into this position.” “Oh! my friend--spare yourself! I am bullied beyond any desire of explanation. I can slash and shout in this _mêlée_ of misunderstanding, and I only dread to die because of the good, sweet soul that has fastened her life to mine. Wait; and for the sake of all give me your present services; and I will meet you with cannon, if you like, when the pother is over.” “Of course--our interest here is one. You have relieved my mind, by cock.” “Have I? Then attack the bottle and be merry, and I’ll try to make you company.” “No. I must go back to my sister. You want blood yourself, though. You’re peeked and haggard man; and no doubt late affairs have over-tried you.” He went out. As the door closed upon him, a savage but irresistible sputter of laughter came from the lips of the other.