Before they arrived, however, the mysterious stranger, who had so opportunely come to the rescue, had succeeded in releasing Helen from the clasp of the unconscious ruffian, and carried her inside, but not before Lord Scampford had discharged his brace of horse pistols at him—we need not say without any effect, save that of startling the horses so terribly that they became perfectly unmanageable, and bolted with the carriage, before the footman had time to spring to the box. His lordship, finding his pistols useless, flung them from him, and drawing his rapier, made for the stranger, who likewise drew his sword, and a skirmish ensued.
At this moment all the inmates of "The Headless Lady" hurried downstairs, half dressed, with lighted candles, and armed with what weapons of offence they could first lay their hands upon. One carried a torch, by the light of which the spectators could clearly note the position of affairs. Lord Scampford and the Unknown were still in the thick of the fray, and appeared well matched, when suddenly an opening presented itself, and the sword of the Unknown pierced the heart of his lordship, who fell back lifeless on the snow.
The greatest confusion reigned. Questions were asked on all hands, and no one seemed to be wiser than his neighbour, yet the main facts of the case were apparent to all. Helen had retreated hurriedly to her chamber, and locked herself in afresh. Our host seemed not yet sufficiently conscious to be able to take in the situation. It was not till the small hours of the morning that each returned to his bed. On looking round for the stranger he had vanished.
Now, it will readily be imagined that at the breakfast table next morning, at which our members assembled rather late, little else was discussed save the adventures of the previous night.
"The scoundrels!" thundered out Mr. Oldstone, with an indignant snort.
"The villains!" chimed in Professor Cyanite and Mr. Crucible together.
"The world is well rid of such a pair of jail birds," said Mr. Hardcase; "only it is a pity that they were allowed to cheat the gallows."
"Poor Helen!" sighed Parnassus; "I think there is matter for an epic poem in her misadventure."