Mrs. Force did not reply. She dared not. She was so utterly subdued by the appearance of her archenemy, under such inexplicable circumstances, she could only ignore his question and repeat her request:
“Oh! Dr. Priestly, you are a man of peace. Pray go and help my husband to bring our young relative to reason.”
The old minister unwillingly trotted off and arrived on the scene of action in good time, for Mr. Force’s strength was beginning to give way under the struggles of his prisoner to escape without hurting his captor.
“You see that man standing among the ladies, whom his presence insults and contaminates, and you will not let me get at him!” cried Le.
“My dear boy, I will not have a fight in my parlor, and in the presence of women and children, do you understand? Wait for the police. We will have him peaceably arrested and taken off. Then our interruption will be over. The marriage ceremony was concluded, you know. As soon as we get rid of this madman—for of course he is a madman—you can get ready and take the train for Baltimore, just as if nothing unpleasant had happened.”
Mr. Force spoke in a clear and ringing voice, and was heard by Col. Anglesea, who laughed out aloud and derisively.
At that moment Roland Bayard and Grandiere came in, convoying two policemen.
So rapidly had the events occurred which take so long to report, that ten minutes had not elapsed since the first appearance of Col. Anglesea on the scene, nor three since the departure of the young men in search of the policemen.
“Ah! here you are!” exclaimed Abel Force, in a tone of relief.
“Yes, sir!” said Roland Bayard. “We were so fortunate as to meet the two officers at the corner of the street!”