Next morning, in the middle of breakfast, a knock was heard at the door, and our landlord let himself in with the newspaper in his hand and an expression like a sphinx on his face. He closed the door quietly after him, and walking up to Mr. Oldstone presented him with the paper, at the same time silently pointing out to him a paragraph that he had already marked with his thumb-nail. The door was no sooner closed than it silently re-opened, apparently by itself, and remained some three or four inches ajar. Few noticed this, or would have given it a thought if they had. Their attention was rivetted on Mr. Oldstone, as he settled his spectacles on his nose preparatory to reading out some tit-bit of news.
"Eh! What!" exclaimed the antiquary, trembling, and turning pale with extreme emotion. "Just listen to this, gentlemen, all of you:—
"'Captured by the Brigands.
"'The well-known artist, Mr. Vandyke McGuilp, whose picture of "The Landlord's Daughter" caused such a furore last exhibition at the Royal Academy, whilst taking a trip in the Sabine Mountains, in the vicinity of Rome, to recuperate his health, was suddenly surrounded by a band of brigands, about twelve in number, who sprang upon him from an ambush and compelled him to surrender. The painter was alone and unarmed, besides being hampered by the materials of his art. All resistance would have been worse than useless, so, finding himself perfectly defenceless, he had no choice but to "stand and deliver." They seized his gold watch and other trinkets, as well as all the coin that he carried about him. Not satisfied with this, they forced him to tramp with them high up in the fastnesses of the mountains, where he still remains in daily and hourly peril of his life. The brigand chief has demanded an exorbitant ransom, and threatens that if it does not arrive within five days they will cut off his ears and send them to his friends in a letter. Any attempt at rescue, they declare, will at once seal the fate of their captive. His position is one to cause the greatest anxiety to his friends, as the barbarity of these desperadoes is well known.'"
Our antiquary had proceeded thus far when all present were startled by a smothered shriek, which was followed by a dull thud, as from a heavy fall. All rushed to the door, and flung it open. Helen had fainted.
Need we relate with what agility Dr. Bleedem leapt to the fore; how carefully he raised the slim form in his arms, cut her stay lace, and applied restoratives; then, finally, with the assistance of our host, carried his patient upstairs, where he deposited her on her own little bed, administering in every way to her comfort—this we will leave to the imagination of the reader—whilst, in the breakfast-room below, the various members talked to each other in subdued tones, and Mr. Oldstone looked thoughtful.
"Humph! I think I can see through the spoke of that wheel," muttered Mr. Hardcase to his neighbour.
"Yes, a dreadful blow though, poor girl!" sighed Mr. Parnassus.
"Quite dramatic in its effect," remarked Mr. Blackdeed.
A snort came from Mr. Oldstone, who had turned his back on the group and begun reperusing the newspaper that he had thrust into his capacious pocket, when Dr. Bleedem re-entered the room.