"Oh, tush!" interrupted Sir Geoffrey, recovering his aplomb. "'Twas the merest scratch. A strip torn from my lady's kerchief would have bound it up and left something to spare—"
"Don't quarrel, you two," interposed Prue's sweet, cooing voice. "Bab, come and sit beside granny and I'll give you a cup of chocolate, while you tell her the latest news."
"The latest news! There is so much, that the difficulty is to know where to begin. I went, this morning, to visit my interesting friend, Lady Beachcombe, and according to promise, to give her full description of the ball, including"—here she shook her finger at Prue—"all the doings and misdoings of her lord. I was prepared to be cautious with the dear creature, but instead of finding myself welcomed as a bearer of news, I heard so much that my poor head fairly swims with trying to remember it all."
"Begin with the least exciting and work up by easy stages to a climax," suggested Peggie, edging toward her cousin and trying to attract her attention.
"No, begin with the most thrilling while our nerves are strong enough to bear it," Prue proposed eagerly.
"First, then," Lady Barbara began, highly enjoying her anticipated triumph, "there was a robbery at Marlborough House last night; and sure no common thief would venture to steal Her Majesty's diamond necklace from the royal tiring-room."
The general chorus of incredulity and indignation realized her expectations and she looked around with a mysterious smile. "No common thief, indeed; but Robin Freemantle, the highwayman, is out of jail, and 'tis said—indeed my authority can not be questioned—that he was among the maskers."
Prue felt cold shivers trickling down her spine, but the consciousness that Sir Geoffrey was watching her, gave her strength to fix a smile upon her face and pour out the cup of chocolate with a steady hand.
"Why do they think he had anything to do with this?" some one inquired. "Tell us everything quickly, Barbara, before we die of curiosity."
"Why, now we come to the best story of all," cried the fair newsmonger. "On his way to the ball, Lord Beachcombe was waylaid by Robin Freemantle and a band of ruffians, who carried him off—carriage, servants and all complete—to a secret cavern and left him there for several hours, having robbed him of his mask and domino and borrowed his invitation and his carriage!"