“Monsieur has not the most courteous way of asking questions, that I ever heard of; but I have no particular objection to answer him. It struck me that, as Mr. Ormiston brought the lady up this way, and as I saw you and he haunting this place so much to-night, I thought her residence was somewhere here, and I paused to look at the house as I went along. In fact, I intended to ask old sleepy-head, over there, for further particulars, before I left the neighborhood, had not you, Sir Norman, run bolt into me, and knocked every idea clean out of my head.” “And you are sure you are not Leoline?” said Sir Norman, suspiciously. “To the best of my belief, Sir Norman, I am not,” replied Hubert, reflectively. “Well, it is all very strange, and very aggravating,” said Sir Norman, sighing, and sheathing his sword. “She is gone, at all events; no doubt about that--and if you have not carried her off, somebody else has.” “Perhaps she has gone herself,” insinuated Hubert. “Bah! Gone herself!” said Sir Norman, scornfully. “The idea is beneath contempt: I tell you, Master Fine-feathers, the lady and I were to be married bright and early to-morrow morning, and leave this disgusting city for Devonshire. Do you suppose, then, she would run out in the small hours of the morning, and go prancing about the streets, or eloping with herself?” “Why, of course, Sir Norman, I can't take it upon myself to answer positively; but, to use the mildest phrase, I must say the lady seems decidedly eccentric, and capable of doing very queer things. I hope, however, you believe me; for I earnestly assure you, I never laid eyes on her but that once.” “I believe you,” said Sir Norman, with another profound and broken-hearted sigh, “and I'm only too sure she has been abducted by that consummate scoundrel and treacherous villain, Count L'Estrange.” “Count who?” said Hubert, with a quick start, and a look of intense curiosity. “What was the name?” “L'Estrange--a scoundrel of the deepest dye! Perhaps you know him?” “No,” replied Hubert, with a queer, half musing smile, “no; but I have a notion I have heard the name. Was he a rival of yours?” “I should think so! He was to have been married to the lady this very night!” “He was, eh! And what prevented the ceremony?” “She took the plague!” said Sir Norman, strange to say, not at all offended at the boy's familiarity. “And would have been thrown into the plague-pit but for me. And when she recovered she accepted me and cast him off!” “A quick exchange! The lady's heart must be most flexible, or unusually large, to be able to hold so many at once.” “It never held him!” said Sir Norman, frowning; “she was forced into the marriage by her mercenary friends. Oh! if I had him here, wouldn't I make him wish the highwaymen had shot him through the head, and done for him, before I would let him go!” “What is he like--this Count L'Estrange?” said Hubert, carelessly.