`To a proper champion -- yes. To you -- no,' returned Sir Mulberry, taking the reins in his hand. `Stand out of the way, dog. William, let go her head.'

`You had better not,' cried Nicholas, springing on the step as Sir Mulberry jumped in, and catching at the reins. `He has no command over the horse, mind. You shall not go -- you shall not, I swear -- till you have told me who you are.'

The groom hesitated, for the mare, who was a high-spirited animal and thorough-bred, plunged so violently that he could scarcely hold her.

`Leave go, I tell you!' thundered his master.

The man obeyed. The animal reared and plunged as though it would dash the carriage into a thousand pieces, but Nicholas, blind to all sense of danger, and conscious of nothing but his fury, still maintained his place and his hold upon the reins.

`Will you unclasp your hand?'

`Will you tell me who you are?'

`No!'

`No!'

In less time than the quickest tongue could tell it, these words were exchanged, and Sir Mulberry shortening his whip, applied it furiously to the head and shoulders of Nicholas. It was broken in the struggle; Nicholas gained the heavy handle, and with it laid open one side of his antagonist's face from the eye to the lip. He saw the gash; knew that the mare had darted off at a wild mad gallop; a hundred lights danced in his eyes, and he felt himself flung violently upon the ground.

He was giddy and sick, but staggered to his feet directly, roused by the loud shouts of the men who were tearing up the street, and screaming to those ahead to clear the way. He was conscious of a torrent of people rushing quickly by -- looking up, could discern the cabriolet whirled along the foot-pavement with frightful rapidity -- then heard a loud cry, the smashing of some heavy body, and the breaking of glass -- and then the crowd closed in in the distance, and he could see or hear no more.

The general attention had been entirely directed from himself to the person in the carriage, and he was quite alone. Rightly judging that under such circumstances it would be madness to follow, he turned down a by-street in search of the nearest coach-stand, finding after a minute or two that he was reeling like a drunken man, and aware for the first time of a stream of blood that was trickling down his face and breast.