ich he was engaged, and animated with anger against his impertinent
intruder, the rencontre speedily began to assume another face,
amidst cries of "Well done, grey jerkin!"--"Try the metal of his gold
doublet!"--"Finely thrust!"--"Curiously parried!"--"There went another
eyelet-hole to his broidered jerkin!"--"Fairly pinked, by G--d!" In
applause, accompanying a successful and conclusive lunge, by which
Peveril ran his gigantic antagonist through the body. He looked at his
prostrate foe for a moment; then, recovering himself, called loudly to
know what had become of the lady.

"Never mind the lady, if you be wise," said one of the watermen; "the
constable will be here in an instant. I'll give your honour a cast
across the water in a moment. It may be as much as your neck's worth.
Shall only charge a Jacobus."

"You be d--d!" said one of his rivals in profession, "as your father was
before you; for a Jacobus, I'll set the gentleman into Alsatia, where
neither bailiff nor constable dare trespass."

"The lady, you scoundrels, the lady!" exclaimed Peveril---"Where is the
lady?"

"I'll carry your honour where you shall have enough of ladies, if that
be your want," said the old Triton; and as he spoke, the clamour amongst
the watermen was renewed, each hoping to cut his own profit out of the
emergency of Julian's situation.

"A sculler will be least suspected, your honour," said one fellow.

"A pair of oars will carry you through the water like a wild-duck," said
another.

"But you have got never a tilt, brother," said a third. "Now I can put
the gentleman as snug as if he were under hatches."

In the midst of the oaths and clamour attending this aquatic controversy
for his custom, Peveril at length made them understand that he
would bestow a Jacobus, not on him whose boat was first oars, but on
whomsoever should inform him of the fate of the lady.

"Of which lady?" said a sharp fellow: "for, to my thought, there was a
pair of them."

"Of both, of both," answered Peveril; "but first, of the fair-haired
lady?"

"Ay, ay, that was she that shrieked so when gold-jacket's companion
handed her into No. 20."

"Who--what--who dared to hand her?" exclaimed Peveril.

"Nay, master, you have heard enough of my tale without a fee," said the
waterman.

"Sordid rascal!" said Peveril, giving him a gold piece, "speak out, or
I'll run my sword through you!"

"For the matter of that, master," answered the fellow, "not while