ad no husband. No! I wish she
came from Shropshire," and he chuckled at the notion.

"If you please, Sir Charles," said the man, "is not Willoughby in
Cheshire?"

"No," cried his master; "it is in Shropshire. What! eh! Five guineas for
you if that lady comes from Willoughby in Shropshire.

"That is where she comes from then, Sir Charles, and she is going to
Bloomsbury Square."

"How long have they been married?"

"Not more than twelve months, Sir Charles."

Pomander gave the man ten guineas instead of five on the spot.

Reader, it was too true! Mr. Vane--the good, the decent, the
churchgoer--Mr. Vane, whom Mrs. Woffington had selected to improve her
morals--Mr. Vane was a married man!

CHAPTER IX.

As soon as Pomander had drawn his breath and realized this discovery, he
darted upstairs, and with all the demure calmness he could assume,
told Mr. Vane, whom he met descending, that he was happy to find his
engagements permitted him to join the party in Bloomsbury Square. He
then flung himself upon his servant's horse.

Like Iago, he saw the indistinct outline of a glorious and a most
malicious plot; it lay crude in his head and heart at present; thus much
he saw clearly, that, if he could time Mrs. Vane's arrival so that she
should pounce upon the Woffington at her husband's table, he might be
present at and enjoy the public discomfiture of a man and woman who
had wounded his vanity. Bidding his servant make the best of his way
to Bloomsbury Square, Sir Charles galloped in that direction himself,
intending first to inquire whether Mrs. Vane was arrived, and, if not,
to ride toward Islington and meet her. His plan was frustrated by an
accident; galloping round a corner, his horse did not change his leg
cleverly, and, the pavement being also loose, slipped and fell on his
side, throwing his rider upon the _trottoir._ The horse got up and
trembled violently, but was unhurt. The rider lay motionless, except
that his legs quivered on the pavement. They took him up and conveyed
him into a druggist's shop, the master of which practiced chirurgery. He
had to be sent for; and, before he could be found, Sir Charles recovered
his reason, so much so, that when the chirurgeon approached with his
fleam to bleed him, according to the practice of the day, the patient
drew his sword, and assured the other he would let out every drop of
blood in his body if he touched him.

He of the shorter but more lethal weapon hastily