rn the tramping of horses upon the turf.
Almost mechanically I loosened my cloak, and brought round the hilt of
my weapon so as to be prepared. When the moon reappeared, I saw on
either side of me a horseman, in long black cloaks and slouched hats,
which effectually concealed the features of the wearers. They did not
speak nor offer any violence, but continued to ride alongside,
accommodating their pace to mine. The horses they bestrode were large
and powerful animals. There was something in the moody silence and even
rigid bearing of these persons, which inspired me with a feeling rather
of awe than suspicion. It might be that they were retainers of the duke;
but then, if any ambuscade or foul play was intended, why give such
palpable warning of it? I resolved to accost them.

"'Ye ride late, sirs.'

"'We do,' said the one to the right. 'We are bent on a far errand.'

"'Indeed! may I ask its nature?'

"'To hear the bat flutter and the owlet scream. Wilt also listen to the
music?'

"'I understand you not, sirs. What mean you?'

"'We are the guardians of the Red Earth. The guilty tremble at our
approach; but the innocent need not fear!'

"'Two of the night patrole!' thought I. 'Very mysterious gentlemen,
indeed; but I have heard that the Austrian police have orders to be
reserved in their communications. I must get rid of them, however.
Good-evening, sirs.'

"I was about to spur my horse, when a cloak was suddenly thrown over my
head as if by some invisible hand; I was dragged forcibly from my
saddle, my arms pinioned, and my sword wrested from me. All this was the
work of a moment, and rendered my resistance useless.

"'Villains!' cried I, 'unhand me--what mean you?'

"'Peace, cavalier!' said a deep low voice at my ear; 'speak
not--struggle not, or it may be worse for you; you are in the hands of
the Secret Tribunal!'"

During the course of his narrative, Mr Mandeville, as I have already
hinted, by no means discontinued his attentions to the brandy and water,
but went on making tumbler after tumbler, with a fervour that was truly
edifying. Assuming that the main facts of his history were true, though
in the eye of geography and politics they appeared a little doubtful, it
was still highly interesting to remark the varied chronology of his
style. A century disappeared with each tumbler. He concentrated in
himself, as it appeared to me, the excellencies of the best writers of
romance, and withal had hitherto