“Trust me, Sir Robin: hist!” Peg’s voice sinks to a mere whisper. “I am Lady Peggy’s best friend and neighbor at home; ’twould be her will, an she stood here, that you should not adventure your precious life in the unseemly crowd with which her brother hath seen fit to surround himself.”
“Lud, Sir! Who are you,” chatters Sir Robin trembling betwixt delight and terror, “that knows so well the temper of Lady Peggy Burgoyne’s disposition? What’s your name, Sir?”
“No matter for my name, Sir, I have Lady Peggy’s best interests at heart, and yours. She bade me, did ever I encounter you in evil neighborhood, tell you, for her sake, eschew it. Hark ye! Sir Robin, out of this hole as fast as your men’s legs can carry you. Above yonder, ’s one who’s sworn to kill you!”
“Who’s he?” demands Sir Robin, one foot now in his sedan, his little eyes twinkling both ways with fright.
“Sir Percy de Bohun,” replies Peg in a hollow whisper. “Look you, Sir,” showing her bloody wrist, “there’s a taste of his quality. I warn you—’tis from Peggy’s own self—get back to Kent, whence you came, and tarry not, for your life’s at yonder desperado’s mercy while you linger up in town.”
“Is My Lady Peggy returned to Kent to her godmother?” quavers Sir Robin, now well inside his chair.
“Nay, Sir; as her brother supposes, she’s at home at Kennaston.”
“I’ll seek her there!” cries Sir Robin, tendering his hand. “And, Sir, my humble duty and gratitude to you for your admirable condescension. I would I knew your name and station.”
“I’m up in town incognito, Sir, for a lady’s sake,” smiles the minx.
“When I return, Sir, I’ll seek you out at White’s or Will’s. I dare be sworn so fine a gentleman must needs be a buck of the first order.”