“James,” said Lady Marvlynn, “what is the meaning of this? You are wounded and bleeding.”
“Yes, my lady; I am cut about terribly.”
“So he is, poor man. Oh, how very dreadful!” chorused half-a-dozen fair beauties.
“Dweadful indeed,” said Fitzbogleton. “It’s a mercy I’ve escaped with my life. As it is, I am not at all sure my head is still on my shoulders. But where—oh, where is Awabella?”
“In the next room. Go and see how she is—there’s a good man,” said the hostess.
His lordship went at once.
“Now, James, tell me how this occurred—but you are bleeding, and perhaps seriously hurt.”
“It’s the glass, my lady, but I’ve picked out all the pieces I could find. And who is this strange person?” said his mistress, glancing at Peace.
“He’s been the cause of it all, my lady. He’s a robber, a thief, a burglar, and I caught him taking a lot of jewellery from one of the upstair rooms. I rushed forward and collared him, then he threw himself out of the window, and I had a hard job to hold him.”
“And did you let him go after that?” inquired Crasher.