“Ready,” cried a voice.
“That’s the word,” rejoined another; “ready;” and immediately two men, their features entirely hidden by a shroud of black crape, accoutred in rough attire, and each armed with pistols, rushed into the room.
“Lend a hand,” said Jack.
Even in this perilous extremity Lady Rookwood’s courage did not desert her. Anticipating their purpose, ere her assailants could reach her she extricated herself from Palmer’s grasp, and rushed upon the foremost so unexpectedly, that, before the man could seize her, she snatched a pistol from his hand, and presented it at the group with an aspect like that of a tigress at bay — her eye wandering from one to the other, as if selecting a mark.
There was a pause of a few seconds, in which the men glanced at the lady, and then at their leader. Jack looked blank.
“Hem!” said he, coolly; “this is something new — disarmed — defied by a petticoat. Hark ye, Rob Rust, the disgrace rests with you. Clear your character, by securing her at once. What! afraid of a woman?”
“A woman!” repeated Rust, in a surly tone; “devilish like a woman, indeed. Few men could do what she has done. Give the word, and I fire. As to seizing her, that’s more than I’ll engage to do.”
“You are a coward,” cried Jack. “I will steer clear of blood — if I can help it. Come, madam, surrender, like the more sensible part of your sex, at discretion. You will find resistance of no avail.” And he stepped boldly towards her.
Lady Rookwood pulled the trigger. The pistol flashed in the pan. She flung away the useless weapon without a word.
“Ha, ha!” said Jack, as he leisurely stooped to pick up the pistol, and approached her ladyship; “the bullet is not yet cast that is to be my billet. Here,” said he, dealing Rust a heavy thump upon the shoulder with the butt-end of the piece, “take back your snapper, and look you prick the touchhole, or your barking-iron will never bite for you. And now, madam, I must take the liberty of again handing you to a seat. Dick Wilder, the cord — quick. It distresses me to proceed to such lengths with your ladyship — but safe bind, safe find, as Mr. Coates would say.”
“You will not bind me, ruffian.”
“Your ladyship is very much mistaken — I have no alternative — your ladyship’s wrist is far too dexterous to be at liberty. I must furthermore request of your ladyship to be less vociferous — you interrupt business, which should be transacted with silence and deliberation.”
Lady Rookwood’s rage and vexation at this indignity were beyond all bounds. Resistance, however, was useless, and she submitted in silence. The cord was passed tightly round her arms, when it flashed upon her recollection for the first time that Coates and Tyrconnel, who were in charge of her captive in the lower corridor, might be summoned to her assistance. This idea no sooner crossed her mind than she uttered a loud and prolonged scream.
“‘Sdeath!” cried Jack; “civility is wasted here. Give me the gag, Rob.”
“Better slit her squeaking-pipe at once,” replied Rust, drawing his clasped knife; “she’ll thwart everything.”
“The gag, I say, not that.”
“I can’t find the gag,” exclaimed Wilder, savagely. “Leave Rob Rust to manage her — he’ll silence her, I warrant you, while you and I rummage the room.”
“Ay, leave her to me,” said the other miscreant. “Go about your business, and take no heed. Her hands are fast — she can’t scratch. I’ll do it with a single gash — send her to join her lord, whom she loved so well, before he’s under ground. They’ll have something to see when they come home from the master’s funeral — their mistress cut and dry for another. Ho, ho!”
“Mercy, mercy!” shrieked Lady Rookwood.
“Ay, ay, I’ll be merciful,” said Rust, brandishing his knife before her eyes. “I’ll not be long about it. Leave her to me — I’ll give her a taste of Sir Sydney.”
“No, no, Rust; no bloodshed,” said Jack, authoritatively; “I’ll find some other way to gag the jade.”
At this moment a noise of rapid footsteps was heard within the passage.
“Assistance comes,” screamed Lady Rookwood. “Help! help!”
“To the door!” cried Jack. The words were scarcely out of his mouth before Luke dashed into the room, followed by Coates and Tyrconnel.
Palmer and his companions levelled their pistols at the intruders, and the latter would have fired, but Jack’s keen eye having discerned Luke amongst the foremost, checked further hostilities for the present. Lady Rookwood, meanwhile, finding herself free from restraint, rushed towards her deliverers, and crouched beneath Luke’s protecting arms, which were extended, pistol in hand, over her head. Behind them stood Titus Tyrconnel, flourishing the poker, and Mr. Coates, who, upon the sight of so much warlike preparation, began somewhat to repent having rushed so precipitately into the lion’s den.
“Luke Bradley!” exclaimed Palmer, stepping forward.
“Luke Bradley!” echoed Lady Rookwood, recoiling and staring into his face.
“Fear nothing, madam,” cried Luke. “I am here to assist you — I will defend you with my life.”
“You defend me!” exclaimed Lady Rookwood, doubtfully.
“Even I,” cried Luke, “strange as it may sound.”
“Holy powers protect me!” ejaculated Titus. “As I live, it is Sir Piers himself.”
“Sir Piers!” echoed Coates, catching the infection of terror, as he perceived Palmer more distinctly. “What! is the dead come to life again? A ghost, a ghost!”
“By my soul,” cried Titus, “it’s the first ghost I ever heard of that committed a burglary in its own house, and on the night of the body’s burial, too. But who the devil are these? maybe they’re ghosts likewise.”
“They are,” said Palmer, in a hollow tone, mimicking the voice of Sir Piers, “attendant spirits. We are come for this woman; her time is out; so no more palavering, Titus. Lend a hand to take her to the churchyard, and be hanged to you.”
“Upon my conscience, Mr. Coates,” cried Titus, “it’s either the devil, or Sir Piers. We’ll be only in the way here. He’s only just settling his old scores with his lady. I thought it would come to this long ago. We’d best beat a retreat.”
Jack took advantage of the momentary confusion created by this incidental alarm at his disguise to direct Rust towards the door by which the new comers had entered; and, this being accomplished, he burst into a loud laugh.
“What! not know me?” cried he —“not know your old friend with a new face, Luke? Nor you, Titus? Nor you, who can see through a millstone, lawyer Coates, don’t you recognize ——”
“Jack Palmer, as I’m a sinner!” cried Titus. “Why, this beats Banaghan. Arrah! Jack, honey, what does this mean? Is it yourself I see in such company? You’re not robbing in earnest?”
“Indeed but I am, friend Titus,” exclaimed Jack; “and it is my own self you see. I just took the liberty of borrowing Sir Piers’s old hunting-coat from the justice-room. You said my toggery wouldn’t do for the funeral. I’m no other than plain Jack Palmer, after all.”
“With half a dozen aliases at your back, I dare say,” cried Coates. “I suspected you all along. All your praise of highwaymen was not lost upon me. No, no; I can see into a millstone, be it ever so thick.”
“Well,” replied Jack, “I’m sorry to see you here, friend Titus.