“It seems to me worse than that.”
“Yes, for we cannot wait; we must leave him behind. It is a great loss. And now, my brave comrade, the drama commences—the drama of the restoration! You will open the van, and as the men come out I shall address them.”
“In English?” I asked.
“Yes; I have prepared and learned by heart an oration. It will not be long, but it will be moving. Ah, you will see that I can be eloquent!”
With his wife at his side, and the drivers a few paces behind him, he drew himself up and threw out his chest, while I unlocked the door of the van.
Throwing it open I stepped back, curious to see the desperadoes he had collected, and wondering how they would regard the business, while the Marquis cleared his throat.
A moment's expectant pause, and then—conceive my sensations—out stepped, first, the burly form of Sir Henry Horley, then the upright figure of General Sholto, next the benevolent countenance of the Bishop of Battersea, and after him the remainder of my invited guests. The Marquis had kidnapped the wrong men!
“What the devil!” began Sir Henry, glancing round him to see in what country and company he found himself; but before there was time for a word of explanation, the Marquis had launched upon his passionate appeal. As the original manuscript afterwards came into my possession, I am able to give the exact words of this remarkable oration.
