What have you done with Leoline!" "Ah! Sir Norman, as I live!" cried the count wheeling round and lifting his hat.

"Give me good even--or rather, good morning--Kingsley, for St.
Paul's has long gone the midnight hour." Sir Norman, with his hand still on his shoulder, returned not the courtesy, and regarding the gallant count with a stern eye.
"Where is Leoline ?" he frigidly repeated.
"Really," said the count, with some embarrassment, "you attack me so unexpectedly, and so like a ghost or a highwayman--by the way I have a word to say to you about highwaymen, and was seeking you to say it." "Where is Leoline ?" shouted the exasperated young knight, releasing his shoulder, and clutching him by the throat.

"Tell me or, by Heaven! I'll pitch you neck and heels into the Thames!" Instantly the sword of the count's companion flashed in the moonlight, and, in two seconds more, its blue blade would have ended the earthly career of Sir Norman Kingsley, had not the count quickly sprang back, and made a motion for his companion to hold.
"Wait!" he cried, commandingly, with his arm outstretched to each.

"Keep off! George, sheathe your sword and stand aside.

Sir Norman Kingsley, one word with you, and be it in peace." "There can be no peace between us," replied that aggravated young gentleman, fiercely "until you tell me what has become of Leoline." "All in good time.