Still, there was a sort of faint phosph.o.r.escent light whitening the gloom, and by it Sir Norman's keen bright eyes discovered that he wore a long dark cloak and slouched hat. He discovered something else, too--that he had seen that hat and cloak, and the man inside of them on London Bridge, not an hour before. It struck Sir Norman there was a sort of fatality in their meeting; and his pulses quickened a trifle, as he thought that he might be speaking to the husband of the lady for whom he had so suddenly conceived such a rash and inordinate attachment. That personage meantime having reloaded his pistol, with a self-possession refreshing to witness, replaced it in his doublet, gathered up the reins, and, glancing slightly at his companion, spoke again,

"I should thank you for saving my life, I suppose, but thanking people is so little in my line, that I scarcely know how to set about it.

Perhaps, my dear sir, you will take the will for the deed."

"An original, this," thought Sir Norman, "whoever he is." Then aloud: "Pray don't trouble yourself about thanks, sir, I should have dome precisely the same for the highwaymen, had you been three to one over them."

"I don't doubt it in the least; nevertheless I feel grateful, for you have saved my life all the same, and you have never seen me before."

"There you are mistaken," said Sir Norman, quietly "I had the pleasure of seeing you scarce an hour ago."

"Ah!" said the stranger, in an altered tone, "and where?"

"On London Bridge."

"I did not see you."

"Very likely, but I was there none the less."

"Do you know me?" said the stranger; and Sir Norman could see he was gazing at him sharply from under the shadow of his slouched hat.

"I have not that honor, but I hope to do so before we part."

"It was quite dark when you saw me on the bridge--how comes it, then, that you recollect me so well?"

"I have always been blessed with an excellent memory," said Sir Norman carelessly, "and I knew your dress, face, and voice instantly."

"My voice! Then you heard me speak, probably to the watchman guarding a plague-stricken house?"

"Exactly! and the subject being a very interesting one, I listened to all you said."

"Indeed! and what possible interest could the subject have for you, may I ask?"

"A deeper one than you think!" said Sir Norman, with a slight tremor in his voice as he thought of the lady, "the watchman told you the lady you sought for had been carried away dead, and thrown into the plague-pit!"

"Well," cried the stranger starting violently, "and was it not true?"

"Only partly. She was carried away in the pest-cart sure enough, but she was not thrown into the plague-pit!"

"And why?"

"Because, when on reaching that horrible spot, she was found to be alive!"

"Good Heaven! And what then?"

"Then," exclaimed Sir Norman, in a tone almost as excited as his own, "she was brought to the house of a friend, and left alone for a few minutes, while that friend went in search of a doctor. On returning they found her--where do you think?"

"Where?"

"Gone!" said Sir Norman emphatically, "spirited away by some mysterious agency; for she was dying of the plague, and could not possibly stir hand or foot herself."

"Dying of the plague, O Leoline!" said the stranger, in a voice full of pity and horror, while for a moment he covered his face with his hands.

"So her name is Leoline?" said Sir Norman to himself. "I have found that out, and also that this gentleman, whatever he may be to her, is as ignorant of her whereabouts as I am myself. He seems in trouble, too. I wonder if he really happens to be her husband?"

The stranger suddenly lifted his head and favored Sir Norman with a long and searching look.

"How come you to know all this, Sir Norman Kingsley," he asked abruptly.

"And how come you to know my name?" demanded Sir Norman, very much amazed, notwithstanding his a.s.sertion that nothing would astonish him more.

"That is of no consequence! Tell me how you've learned all this?"

repeated the stranger, in a tone of almost stern authority.

Sir Norman started and stared. That voice! I have had heard it a thousand times! It had evidently been disguised before; but now, in the excitement of the moment, the stranger was thrown off his guard, and it became perfectly familiar. But where had he heard it? For the life of him, Sir Norman could not tell, yet it was as well known to him as his own. It had the tone, too, of one far more used to command than entreaty; and Sir Norman, instead of getting angry, as he felt he ought to have done, mechanically answered:

"The watchman told you of the two young men who brought her out and laid her in the dead-cart--I was one of the two."

"And who was the other?"

"A friend of mine--one Malcolm Ormiston."

"Ah! I know him! Pardon my abruptness, Sir Norman," said the stranger, once more speaking in his a.s.sumed suave tone, "but I feel deeply on this subject, and was excited at the moment. You spoke of her being brought to the house of a friend--now, who may that friend be, for I was not aware that she had any?"

"So I judged," said Sir Norman, rather bitterly, "or she would not have been left to die alone of the plague. She was brought to my house, sir, and I am the friend who would have stood by her to the last!"

Sir Norman sat up very straight and haughty on his horse; and had it been daylight, he would have seen a slight derisive smile pa.s.s over the lips of his companion.

"I have always heard that Sir Norman Kingsley was a chivalrous knight,"

he said; "but I scarcely dreamed his gallantry would have carried him so far as to brave death by the pestilence for the sake of an unknown lady--however beautiful. I wonder you did not carry her to the pest-house."

"No doubt! Those who could desert her at such a time would probably be capable of that or any other baseness!"

"My good friend," said the stranger, calmly, "your insinuation is not over-courteous, but I can forgive it, more for the sake of what you've done for her to-night than for myself."

Sir Norman's lip curled.

"I'm obliged to you! And now, sir, as you have seen fit to question me in this free and easy manner, will you pardon me if I take the liberty of returning the compliment, and ask you a few in return?"

"Certainly; pray proceed, Sir Norman," said the stranger, blandly; "you are at liberty to ask as many questions as you please--so am I to answer them."

"I answered all yours unhesitatingly, and you owe it to me to do the same," said Sir Norman, somewhat haughtily. "In the first place, you have an advantage of me which I neither understand, nor relish; so, to place us on equal terms, will you have the goodness to tell me your name?"

"Most a.s.suredly! My name," said the stranger, with glib airiness, "is Count L'Estrange."

"A name unknown to me," said Sir Norman, with a piercing look, "and equally unknown, I believe, at Whitehall. There is a Lord L'Estrange in London; but you and he are certainly not one and the same."

"My friend does not believe me," said the count, almost gayly--"a circ.u.mstance I regret, but cannot help. Is there anything else Sir Norman wishes to know?"

"If you do not answer my questions truthfully, there is little use in my asking them," said Sir Norman, bluntly. "Do you mean to say you are a foreigner?"