"My uncle," whispered Gerald to me. "Now prepare to see two of the wickedest rascals unhung." "The Viscount St. Amande," said the great footman, regarding the company, as I thought, with a bewildered air--doubtless he wondered how there could be two persons bearing the same title--"and Mr. Wolfe Considine," and a moment afterwards the new comers were before us. The one whom I soon knew to be Robert St. Amande bore nothing in his features that seemed to me remarkable or to indicate a villain, unless it was a terrible scowl and a most fierce, piercing pair of black eyes. He was solemnly clad; indeed, he was in deep mourning for his second wife, who had been carried off but recently by that dreadful scourge the smallpox, so that there was no colour about him. His companion also wore black--I suppose for his master's wife--and was naught else but an ignoble copy of that master. Gazing on him, and observing the insolent leer upon his face, his tawdry attempts at finery even in his mourning, such as his steel-hilted sword inlaid with brass, his imitation lace fal-lal neckerchief, and silver shoe-buckles, I could well believe that here was an adventurer and outcast who might easily be suborned and bribed to swear any lie for a handful of guineas. "So," exclaimed Robert St. Amande, as he cast his scowling glances round the room, though even as he so scowled 'twas easy enough to see that he was much taken aback by the sight of so many persons assembled, "so, you invite us to meet a great company, my lord Marquis and kinsman. 'Tis well, very well. Your Grace of Devonshire, I salute you," accompanying his words with a deep bow, half mock and half respectful. "And the Premier, as I live! Sir Robert, I am your most obedient, humble servant. Sir Philip, too; though, sir, you are, I think, none too well inclined towards me. Well, it must be endured. And, now, my lord Marquis, in the midst of this gallant company, enriched by the beauty of this fair lady, whom I know not, may I ask what your intentions are? Though, indeed, I can but guess that you have gathered your friends together to witness an act of justice which, though tardy, you intend to do at last." These swaggering speeches were well enough made and with a surprising air of confidence--indeed, my lord hath often since said that neither Wilkes nor Booth, the play-actors, could have surpassed him--yet they had no effect. The Duke and the great Minister took no notice of his salutations, while the Attorney-General but shrugged his shoulders contemptuously at his remarks, and then the Marquis spake, saying: "Robert St. Amande, your guess is indeed most accurate. It is to do an act of justice at last that I have requested your presence here." "'Tis well," the other replied, while he threw himself into a chair, an act in which he was imitated by his follower. "'Tis well. Proceed, my lord Marquis." Yet as he spake with such assurance, it seemed to me as though he blanched and turned white.