From a postboy he learned that a young lady, answering exactly to the description of his daughter, had been driven, in the company of a handsome man, to London, where they had walked off arm in arm together.  In London they had vanished; and advertisements and placards offering large rewards failed to discover a trace of them.  Then it was that Lord Kingsborough’s suspicions fixed themselves firmly on Fitzgerald.  He and no other must have been the scoundrel who had done this dastardly deed—­a shameful return for all the kindness lavished on him by the family of the girl he had abducted.

When his lordship sought Fitzgerald out, and charged him with his infamy, he was met with open surprise and honest indignation.  So far from being the guilty man, Fitzgerald avowed the utmost disgust at the deed, and declared that he would know no rest until the girl had been restored to her parents, and the miscreant properly punished.  And from this time no one appeared to be more zealous in the search for the runaway than her abductor.

For weeks all their efforts to trace the fugitive proved of no avail, until one day a girl of the lower-classes called on Lady Kingsborough, to whom she told the following strange tale.  She was, she said, servant at a boarding-house in Kennington, to which, some weeks earlier (in fact, at the very time of the disappearance), a gentleman had brought a young lady who answered to the advertised description of the missing girl, especially in her profusion of beautiful hair, which fell below the knees.  The gentleman, she continued, often visited the girl.

“It must be my daughter!” exclaimed Lady Kingsborough.  “But who is the gentleman?  Pray describe him as fully as you can.”  “He is tall and handsome——­” began the girl.  At that moment the door opened, and in walked Fitzgerald himself.  “Why,” exclaimed the servant, as with startled eyes she looked at the intruder, “that’s the very gentleman who visits the lady!”

For once Fitzgerald’s coolness deserted him.  At the damning words he turned and dashed out of the room, thus confirming the worst suspicions against him.  The rage and indignation of the injured family were boundless.  Such an outrage could only be wiped out with blood, and within an hour Colonel King, elder brother of the wronged girl, called on Fitzgerald, with Major Wood as second, struck him on the cheek, and demanded a meeting on the following morning.

The next day at dawn the duellists met near the Magazine in Hyde Park, Colonel King bringing with him his second and a surgeon.  Fitzgerald came alone.  He had been unable to find a friend to accompany him.  Even the surgeon, when requested, point blank refused to undertake the dishonourable office of second to such a miscreant.  The combatants were placed ten yards apart, and, at the signal, two shots rang out.  Neither man was touched.  Again and again shots were exchanged, and both men remained uninjured.