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Updated: May 24, 2025
"My friends," said Lord Wynchgate, "in asking you to abandon our game, I had an end in view. I ask your help in an affair of the heart." "Ha! excellent!" exclaimed the five noblemen. "We are with you heart and soul." "I propose this night," continued Wynchgate, "with your help, to carry off a young girl, a female!" "An abduction!" exclaimed the Ambassador somewhat sternly.
But at the very moment the sound of hurrying footsteps was heard, and a clear, ringing, manly, well-toned, vibrating voice cried, "Hold! Stop! Desist! Have a care, titled villain, or I will strike you to the earth." A tall aristocratic form bounded out of the darkness. "Gentlemen," cried Wynchgate, releasing his hold upon the frightened girl, "we are betrayed. Save yourselves. To the coach."
Lord Wynchgate and his companions for they it was, that is to say, they were it sat below in the sitting-room looking at the albums. "Woman," said Lord Wynchgate to the Landlady, with an oath, "let her hurry up. We have seen enough of these. We can wait no longer." "I am here," cried a clear voice upon the threshold, and Winnifred stood before them.
His figure was that, more or less, of a Greek god, while his face, although at the moment inflamed with anger, was of an entirely moral and permissible configuration. "Save me! save me!" cried Winnifred. "I will," cried the Stranger, rushing towards Lord Wynchgate with uplifted cane. But the cowardly Aristocrat did not await the onslaught of the unknown.
"Wynchgate, I cannot countenance this." "Mistake me not," said the Earl, "I intend to abduct her. But I propose nothing dishonourable. It is my firm resolve to offer her marriage." "Then," said Lord Frogwater, "I am with you." "Gentlemen," concluded Wynchgate, "all is ready. The coach is below. I have provided masks, pistols, and black cloaks. Follow me."
"My lords, for I divine who you are and wherefore you have come, take me, do your worst with me, but spare, oh, spare this humble companion of my sorrow." "Right-oh!" said Lord Dogwood, with a brutal laugh. "Enough," exclaimed Wynchgate, and seizing Winnifred by the waist, he dragged her forth out of the house and out upon the street.
But what these dangers were, we must reserve for another chapter. We must now ask our readers to shift the scene if they don't mind doing this for us to the apartments of the Earl of Wynchgate in St. James's Close. The hour is nine o'clock in the evening, and the picture before us is one of revelry and dissipation so characteristic of the nobility of England.
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