"Oh--hif you please, sir!"

Barnabas started, and looking about, presently espied a figure in

the shadow of the osiers; a very small figure, upon whose diminutive

jacket were numerous buttons that glittered under the moon.

"Why--it's Milo of Crotona!" said Cleone.

"Yes, my lady--hif you please, it are," answered Milo of Crotona,

touching the peak of his leather cap.

"But--what are you doing here? How did you know where to find us?"

"'Cause as I came up the drive, m'lady, I jest 'appened to see you

a-walking together,--so I followed you, I did, m'lady."

"Followed us?" repeated Cleone rather faintly. "Oh!"

"And then--when I seen you slip, m'lady, I thought as 'ow I'd

better--wait a bit. So I waited, I did." And here, again, Milo

of Crotona touched the peak of his cap, and looked from Barnabas

to Cleone's flushing loveliness with eyes wide and profoundly

innocent,--a very cherub in top-boots, only his buttons (Ah, his

buttons!) seemed to leer and wink one to another, as much as to say:

"Oh yes! Of course! to--be--sure?"

"And what brings you so far from London?" inquired Barnabas, rather

hurriedly.

"Coach, sir,--box seat, sir!"

"And you brought your master with you, of course,--is the Viscount

here?"

"No, m'lady. I 'ad to leave 'im be'ind 'count of 'im being unfit to

travel--"

"Is he ill?"

"Oh, no, not hill, m'lady,--only shot, 'e is."

"Shot!" exclaimed Barnabas, "how--where?"

"In the harm, sir,--all on 'count of 'is 'oss,--'Moonraker' sir."

"His horse?"

"Yessir. 'S arternoon it were. Ye see, for a long time I ain't been

easy in me mind about them stables where 'im and you keeps your

'osses, sir, 'count of it not being safe enough,--worritted I 'ave,

sir. So 's arternoon, as we was passing the end o' the street, I

sez to m'lud, I sez, 'Won't your Ludship jest pop your nob round the

corner and squint your peepers at the 'osses?' I sez. So 'e laughs,

easy like, and in we pops. And the first thing we see was your 'ead

groom, Mr. Martin, wiv blood on 'is mug and one peeper in mourning

a-wrastling wiv two coves, and our 'ead groom, Standish, wiv another

of 'em. Jest as we run up, down goes Mr. Martin, but--afore they

could maul 'im wiv their trotters, there's m'lud wiv 'is fists an'

me wiv a pitchfork as 'appened to lie 'andy. And very lively it were,

sir, for a minute or two. Then off goes a barker and off go the coves,

and there's m'lud 'olding onto 'is harm and swearing 'eavens 'ard.

And that's all, sir."

"And these men were--trying to get at the horses?"

"Ah! Meant to nobble 'Moonraker,' they did,--'im bein' one o' the

favorites, d' ye see, sir, and it looked to me as if they meant to

do for your 'oss, 'The Terror', as well."




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