"Listen!" cried Fisher. "Some one above is speaking."
The men, panting, and bathed in perspiration, paused.
In fact, a window upon the second floor had been suddenly thrown open, and a man—probably Lord Mowbray—had appeared upon the balcony. Every eye was raised to him and every tongue hurled some insult at him in the same breath. With a calm curiosity he regarded the crowd swarming and howling in the darkness beneath him.
"Gentlemen," he said, "we are at least a dozen strong here, well armed and determined to defend ourselves. The first man who sets foot within this house will pay dearly for his imprudence; but before we resort to bloodshed, suppose we hold a parley. What is your will with me? Do you fancy, perhaps, that I am a papist? According to my nurse I am a member of the Church of England, and I am ready to pronounce in your presence the test oath or any other oath, to swear by the body of Christ, the belly of Mahomet, by Belial or Beelzebub."
This harangue scandalized Reuben's virtuous friends, while it set their rowdy escort in a roar of laughter. Young Marsham was not slow to appreciate the prestige which such jocose coolness in the hour of his peril was giving Mowbray,—a supreme quality in the eyes of an English mob; therefore he hastened to interpose.
"You are detaining a young girl here whom you have abducted from her family," he declared.
"It is true," answered Lord Mowbray; "there is a young lady here. Do you wish to see her?"
"At once! I insist upon it!"
"I do not understand your last words, but I willingly yield to your request. Madam, be good enough to show yourself to these gentlemen, who are nervous about you."
He turned towards the interior of the chamber and bowing respectfully, with much grace extended his hand to a woman who stood there, and assisted her to step out upon the balcony. At the same time he added,—