The Midnight Queen [19]
you have never seen me
before."
"There you are mistaken," said Sir Norman, quietly "I had the
pleasure of seeing you scarce an hour ago."
"Ah!" said the stranger, in an altered tone, "and where?"
"On London Bridge."
"I did not see you."
"Very likely, but I was there none the less."
"Do you know me?" said the stranger; and Sir Norman could see he
was gazing at him sharply from under the shadow of his slouched
hat.
"I have not that honor, but I hope to do so before we part."
"It was quite dark when you saw me on the bridge - how comes it,
then, that you recollect me so well?"
"I have always been blessed with an excellent memory," said Sir
Norman carelessly, "and I knew your dress, face, and voice
instantly."
"My voice! Then you heard me speak, probably to the watchman
guarding a plague-stricken house?"
"Exactly! and the subject being a very interesting one, I
listened to all you said."
"Indeed I and what possible interest could; the subject have for
you, may I ask?"
"A deeper one than you think!" said Sir Norman, with a slight
tremor in his voice as he thought of the lady, "the watchman told
you the lady you sought for had been carried away dead, and
thrown into the plague-pit!"
"Well," cried the stranger starting violently, "and was it not
true?"
"Only partly. She was carried away in the pest-cart sure enough,
but she was not thrown into the plague-pit!"
"And why?"
"Because, when on reaching that horrible spot, she was found to
be alive!"
"Good Heaven! And what then?"
"Then," exclaimed Sir Norman, in a tone almost as excited as his
own, "she was brought to the house of a friend, and left alone
for a few minutes, while that friend went in search of a doctor.
On returning they found her - where do you think?"
"Where?"
"Gone!" said Sir Norman emphatically, "spirited away by some
mysterious agency; for she was dying of the plague, and could not
possibly stir hand or foot herself."
"Dying of the plague, O Leoline!" said the stranger, in a voice
full of pity and horror, while for a moment he covered his face
with his hands.
"So her name is Leoline?" said Sir Norman to himself. "I have
found that out, and also that this gentleman, whatever he may be
to her, is as ignorant of her whereabouts as I am myself. He
seems in trouble, too. I wonder if he really happens to be her
husband?"
The stranger suddenly lifted his head and favored Sir Norman with
a long and searching look.
"How come you to know all this, Sir Norman Kingsley," he asked
abruptly.
"And how come you to know my name?" demanded Sir Norman, very
much amazed, notwithstanding his assertion that nothing would
astonish him more.
"That is of no consequence! Tell me how you've learned all
this?" repeated the stranger, in a tone of almost stern
authority.
Sir Norman started and stared. That voice I have had heard it a
thousand times! It had evidently been disguised before; but now,
in the excitement of the moment, the stranger was thrown off his
guard, and it became perfectly familiar. But where had he heard
it? For the life of him, Sir Norman could not tell, yet it was
as well known to him as his own. It had the tone, too, of one
far more used to command than entreaty; and Sir Norman, instead
of getting angry, us he felt he ought to have done, mechanically
answered:
"The watchman told you of the two young men who brought her out
and laid her in the dead-cart - I was one of the two."
"And who was the other?"
"A friend of mine - one Malcolm Ormiston."
"Ah! I know him! Pardon my abruptness, Sir Norman," said the
stranger, once more speaking in his assumed suave tone, "but I
feel deeply on this subject, and was excited at the moment. You
spoke of her being brought to the house of a friend - now, who
may that
before."
"There you are mistaken," said Sir Norman, quietly "I had the
pleasure of seeing you scarce an hour ago."
"Ah!" said the stranger, in an altered tone, "and where?"
"On London Bridge."
"I did not see you."
"Very likely, but I was there none the less."
"Do you know me?" said the stranger; and Sir Norman could see he
was gazing at him sharply from under the shadow of his slouched
hat.
"I have not that honor, but I hope to do so before we part."
"It was quite dark when you saw me on the bridge - how comes it,
then, that you recollect me so well?"
"I have always been blessed with an excellent memory," said Sir
Norman carelessly, "and I knew your dress, face, and voice
instantly."
"My voice! Then you heard me speak, probably to the watchman
guarding a plague-stricken house?"
"Exactly! and the subject being a very interesting one, I
listened to all you said."
"Indeed I and what possible interest could; the subject have for
you, may I ask?"
"A deeper one than you think!" said Sir Norman, with a slight
tremor in his voice as he thought of the lady, "the watchman told
you the lady you sought for had been carried away dead, and
thrown into the plague-pit!"
"Well," cried the stranger starting violently, "and was it not
true?"
"Only partly. She was carried away in the pest-cart sure enough,
but she was not thrown into the plague-pit!"
"And why?"
"Because, when on reaching that horrible spot, she was found to
be alive!"
"Good Heaven! And what then?"
"Then," exclaimed Sir Norman, in a tone almost as excited as his
own, "she was brought to the house of a friend, and left alone
for a few minutes, while that friend went in search of a doctor.
On returning they found her - where do you think?"
"Where?"
"Gone!" said Sir Norman emphatically, "spirited away by some
mysterious agency; for she was dying of the plague, and could not
possibly stir hand or foot herself."
"Dying of the plague, O Leoline!" said the stranger, in a voice
full of pity and horror, while for a moment he covered his face
with his hands.
"So her name is Leoline?" said Sir Norman to himself. "I have
found that out, and also that this gentleman, whatever he may be
to her, is as ignorant of her whereabouts as I am myself. He
seems in trouble, too. I wonder if he really happens to be her
husband?"
The stranger suddenly lifted his head and favored Sir Norman with
a long and searching look.
"How come you to know all this, Sir Norman Kingsley," he asked
abruptly.
"And how come you to know my name?" demanded Sir Norman, very
much amazed, notwithstanding his assertion that nothing would
astonish him more.
"That is of no consequence! Tell me how you've learned all
this?" repeated the stranger, in a tone of almost stern
authority.
Sir Norman started and stared. That voice I have had heard it a
thousand times! It had evidently been disguised before; but now,
in the excitement of the moment, the stranger was thrown off his
guard, and it became perfectly familiar. But where had he heard
it? For the life of him, Sir Norman could not tell, yet it was
as well known to him as his own. It had the tone, too, of one
far more used to command than entreaty; and Sir Norman, instead
of getting angry, us he felt he ought to have done, mechanically
answered:
"The watchman told you of the two young men who brought her out
and laid her in the dead-cart - I was one of the two."
"And who was the other?"
"A friend of mine - one Malcolm Ormiston."
"Ah! I know him! Pardon my abruptness, Sir Norman," said the
stranger, once more speaking in his assumed suave tone, "but I
feel deeply on this subject, and was excited at the moment. You
spoke of her being brought to the house of a friend - now, who
may that