In the following pages will be found the only authentic account of an affair which provided London, and indeed all England, with material for speculation and excitement for a period of at least nine days.
So many inaccurate versions have been circulated, so many ill-natured and unjust aspersions have been freely cast, that it seemed advisable for the sake of those principally concerned to make a plain unvarnished statement of the actual facts. And when I mention that I who write this am the Theodore Blenkinsop whose name was, not long since, as familiar in the public mouth as household words, I venture to think that I shall at once recall the matter to the shortest memory, and establish my right to speak with authority on the subject.
Part 1.
Illustration: The exquisite face looking out over the wire blind.
Illustration: Æneas Polkinghorne.
Illustration: Still I persevered.
Illustration: The Introduction of Mr Blenkinsop to Miss Lurana de Castro.
Illustration: “And whom should I marry, Mr Blenkinsop?”
Illustration: “Let us be married in the Lion’s Cage.”
Illustration: “Yes, papa, we are a little late.”
Illustration: “First-rate idea of yours, Blenkinsop.”
Illustration: “Well, if the lady’s as game as she seems, and the gentleman likewise, I don’t see any objection.”
Illustration: We were still chatting when Laurana returned.
Illustration: A Cleric of the broad-minded school.
Illustration: “If you go on like that I shall begin to think you want to frighten me.”
Part 2.
Illustration: Mademoiselle.
Illustration: “A de Castro can never marry a Craven.”
Illustration: “If them two got together, there’d be the doose’s delight.”
Illustration: I was forlornly mopping when Niono returned.
Illustration: My wedding toilette was complete.
Illustration: It’s a swindle.
Illustration: A kind of small procession entered the arena.
Illustration: Then he addressed the audience.
Illustration: “If only you had been firmer, Theodore.”
