Colonel Mellersh was the only one who was likely to ride with a cool
head: the others were for racing at the top of the horses' speed. And
so it was that before long, as Richard Linnell sat well down and gave
his horse its head, James Bell, whom the ride was gradually sobering in
one sense, but also making far more excited as he realised clearly the
position of his sister, shook his reins, pressed his horse's flanks with
his heels, and the brave beast began to almost fly. Naturally enough,
the Colonel's steed pressed more heavily upon its bit, refusing, after
the fashion of a cavalry horse, to be left behind, and forcing itself
between the other two, till the riders were knee to knee, and tearing
along as if in a desperate charge.
"We're distressing the horses, Dick," said Mellersh, turning his head to
his right; but Bell heard him.
"I'm sorry for the horses, sir; but they are his. Let them be
distressed."
"We must overtake them," said Linnell between his teeth.
"Right, sir, right," cried Bell. "Forward, Colonel. Please don't draw
rein."
Fortunately for them, the night grew a little lighter, and along the
treeless Down road they thundered. Every now and then one of the horses
snorted as the dust flew, but mile after mile was spurned beneath their
heels and they showed no sign of distress, but seemed to rejoice in the
long night gallop and the music of their clattering hoofs.
The road was singularly silent and deserted; not so much as a
foot-passenger was on the way, not a vehicle was seen.
A gate at last came in view as they were breathing the horses up a hill,
after riding for some distance without a word, the very silence telling
the intensity of the men's feelings.
Here was a check, for the gate was closed, and no light visible, but
Bell rode close up and kicked hard at the panel, till the door in the
gatekeeper's hut was opened.
"Now, then, quick!" cried Bell. "How long is it since a chaise and four
passed?"
"Chaise and four?" said the man surlily.
"Yes, chaise and four. Has a chaise and four passed?"
"What, to-night?"
"Yes, to-night. Answer; quick, or--"
He caught the man by the collar, and the evasion he was about to utter
did not pass his lips.
"Yes," he growled; "one went by."
"How long ago?" said the Colonel.
"How long?"
"Yes, yes. Quick, man, quick! and here's a crown for the toll. Keep
the change."
This seemed to enliven the surly fellow's faculties, and he took the
money and rubbed his head as he began to unfasten the gate.
"Well, how long?" cried the Colonel.
"Long? Well a good bit ago, sir."
"Yes, yes, but what do you mean by a good bit?"
"Mebbe two hours--mebbe hour and a half. I've been asleep since."
"Come along," cried the Colonel, who was as excited now as his
companions. "There's nothing more to be got from this lout."
They left the man leaning on the gate, having gained nothing whatever by
the colloquy but a short breathing space for their horses, and these
continued their gallop the moment they were through.
They passed a side road now and then, and at the first Linnell turned in
his saddle.
"Is it likely that they will leave the main road?" he said.
"No," was the prompt answer given by Bell, without waiting for the
Colonel to speak. "They're going west--far enough, I dare say--and they
must change their horses now and then. We shall hear of them at
Cheldon."
Bell was right, for, when, at the end of another quarter of an hour,
they cantered into the little post town, there was a light still burning
in a lantern in the inn yard, and an ostler proved to be a little more
communicative.
Yes, a post-chaise--a yellow one--came in half an hour ago, and changed
horses and went on. Their horses were all in a muck sweat, and here was
one of the boys.
A postboy came out of the tap, and stood staring.
He knew nothing, he said, only that he and his mate had brought a party
from Saltinville.
"A lady and gentleman?" said Linnell sharply.
"I d'know," said the postboy. "I didn't ride the wheeler; I was on one
of the leaders."
"But you must have seen?" cried Linnell angrily.
"No; I didn't see nothing. I'd enough to do to look after my horses.
Bad road and precious hilly 'bout here, sir."
"Come along," cried Linnell angrily.
"Walk your horses for a few minutes," said Mellersh quietly; and as
Linnell and Bell went on he dismounted and thrust his hand into his
pocket. "Just tighten these girths for me a little, will you, my man?"
he said, turning to the postboy, and slipping a guinea into his hand.
"Cert'ny, sir. Get a bit slack they do after a few miles canter.
Steady, my lad. Nice horse, sir, that he is," continued the postboy,
who was smooth civility itself. "Must be a pleasure to ride him."
"Yes," said Mellersh, as the man went on talking and buckling with his
head supporting the saddle-flap. "You don't get such a nag as that for
a leader, eh?"
"No, sir, not likely. Fifteen pounders is about our cut. That one's
worth a hundred. All of a sweat he is, and yet not a bit blown. You've
come fast, sir."
"Yes; at a good rattling gallop nearly all the ten miles."
"'Leven, sir, a good 'leven, and a bad road."
"Is it, though?" said Mellersh quietly, as he prepared to mount again.
"All that, sir."
"Postboys' miles, eh?"
"No, sir; honest miles. We'd charge twelve. Wouldn't you like them
stirrups shortened two or three holes?" said the man eagerly.
"No, thanks; no. I'm an old soldier, and we always ride with a long
stirrup. Matter of use. Shall we catch them, do you think?"
"What, with them horses, sir? Yes, easy. They've got a shocking bad
team. They never have a decent change here. Lookye here, sir. You put
on a decent canter, and you'll be up to them before they get to Drumley.
The road's awful for wheels for about six miles; but when you get about
a mile on from here, you can turn off the road on the off-side, and
there's five miles of good, close turf for you where a chaise couldn't
go, but there's plenty of room for a horse. Good-night, sir; thankye,
sir. Good luck to you."
Mellersh said "good-night" and cantered off after his companions, his
steed needing no urging to join its fellows.
"Anyone would think that a guinea dissolved into golden oil and made a
man's temper and his tongue run easily. I can't prove it, but I should
not be surprised if that was one of Rockley's own guineas. Odd.
Running him down with his own horses, and his own coin. Well, he
deserves it all."
"We're on the track right enough, Dick," he cried, as he overtook
Linnell; Bell, in his impatience, being a couple of hundred yards ahead.
"Are you sure? I don't understand this fellow. Why should he be so
eager to overtake that scoundrel?"
"Can't say. Puzzled me," replied Mellersh drily.
"Is he leading us wrong?"
"No. We are well on our way, and shall overtake them by the time they
reach the next posting house. Forward."
Mellersh did not feel quite sure, but his confidence increased as he
found the postboy's words correct about the badness of the road, and the
smooth turf at the side, on to which they turned, and cantered along
easily for mile after mile.
Every now and then Bell burst forth with some fierce expletive, as if he
could not contain his rage; and they gathered that at times it was
against himself, at others against Rockley. As fierce a rage, too,
burned in Linnell's breast, compounded of bitter hatred, jealousy, and
misery.
He could not talk to Mellersh, many of whose remarks fell upon unheeding
ears, while Linnell asked himself why he was doing all this to save from
misery and shame a woman who did not deserve his sympathy.
But, when he reasoned thus, it seemed as if Claire's pure, sad face
looked up into his reproachfully, and the thoughts her gentle loving
eyes engendered made him press his horse's flanks, and send him along
faster as he said to himself:
"It is a mystery. I cannot understand it; and were she everything that
is bad, I should be compelled to fight for her and try to save her to
the end."
Mile after mile was passed, and though the dull thudding of their
horses' hoofs upon the soft turf gave them opportunities for hearing the
rattle of wheels and the trampling on the rough road, no sound greeted
their ears.
"We shall never catch them, gentlemen, like this," cried Bell at last.
"Curse the horses! Push on. If we kill the poor brutes we must
overtake that chaise."
"Forward then," said Mellersh eagerly, for there was that in the young
man's voice that cleared away the last shadow of doubt and suspicion.
They had been on the grass waste beside the road for quite five miles
when, all at once, the way seemed to narrow; and they were about to turn
on to the road, but Linnell drew rein suddenly.
"Stop!" he cried. "Listen!"
There was no doubt about it. As soon as they drew up, with their mounts
breathing hard, and snorting or champing their bits, there came on the
night air the _beat, beat_ of trotting horses, and the rattle of wheels.
"There," cried Mellersh, "that settles it. Forward, again!"
The horses seemed almost to divine that they had only to put on a final
spurt and finish their task, for they went off at a free gallop, and
before long there was the rattle of the wheels plainly heard, though for
the most part it was drowned by the sound of the trampling hoofs, for
the pursuers were now upon the hard, chalky road.
A quarter of an hour's hard riding and they were well in view, in spite
of the darkness of the night and the cloud of dust churned up by the
team in the chaise. It was evident that the postboys were being urged
to do their best; and as they had put their wretched horses to a gallop,
the pursuers could see the chaise sway from side to side when the wheels
jolted in and out of the ruts worn in the neglected road.
Had any doubt remained as to the occupants of the chaise, they would
soon have been at an end; for, as Linnell pushed on taking one side, and
Mellersh the other, Rockley's voice could be heard shouting from the
front of the chaise, and bidding the postboys whip and spur.
It was the work of minutes, then of moments, when Linnell, who was now
leading in a break-neck gallop, yelled to the postboys to stop.
"Go on, you scoundrels! Gallop!" roared Rockley from the front window.
"Go on, or I fire."
The man on the wheeler half turned in his saddle and made as if to pull
up, but there was the flash of a pistol, the quick report, and as a
bullet whistled over his head, the postboy uttered a cry of fear, and
bent down till his face almost touched the horse's mane, while his
companion on the leader did the same, and they whipped and spurred their
jaded horses frantically.
"Stop!" shouted Linnell again. "Stop!"
"Go on! Gallop!" roared Rockley, "or I'll blow out your brains."
The men crouched lower. Their horses tore on; the chaise leaped and
rocked and seemed about to go over, and all was rush and excitement,
noise and dust.
Linnell was well abreast of the chaise door now, and pushing on to get
to the postboy who rode the leader, when the glass on his side was
dashed down, and, pistol-in-hand, Rockley leaned out.
"Back!" he said hoarsely, "or I fire."
"You scoundrel!" roared Linnell. "Cowardly dog! but you are caught."
"Stop, or I fire," shouted Rockley again, fuming with rage and vexation
at being overtaken in the hour of his triumph.
"Fire if you dare!" cried Linnell excitedly, as he pressed on.
_Crack_!
There was a second flash and report, and the horse Linnell rode made a
spring forward as if it had been hit.
The thought flashed across Linnell's brain that in another few moments
the brave beast he bestrode would stagger and fall beneath him, and that
then the cowardly scoundrel who had fired would escape with the woman he
was ready to give his life to save. A curious mist seemed to float
before his eyes, the hot blood of rage to surge into his brain, lights
danced before him, and for the moment he felt hardly accountable for his
actions.
All he knew was that he was abreast of the wheeler, with the man
whipping and spurring with all his might; that the horses were snorting
and tearing along in a wild race, and that Rockley was leaning out of
the window yelling to the men to gallop or he would fire again.
Linnell had a misty notion Mellersh was somewhere on the other side, and
that Bell was galloping behind, but he did not call to them for help.
He did not even see that Mellersh was pushing forward and had reached
out to catch the off-leader's rein. All he did realise was that Claire
Denville, the woman he loved, was in peril; that her whole future
depended upon him; and that he must save her at any cost.
He was galloping now a little in advance of the postboy. Their knees
had touched for an instant; then his leg was in front, and he was
leaning forward.
"Touch that rein, and I fire," roared Rockley.
Then there was once more a flash cutting the darkness; and as the bullet
from Rockley's pistol sped on its errand, the horse made one plunge
forward, and then pitched upon its head. There was a tremendous crash
of breaking glass and woodwork, and beside the road the wreck of a
chaise with two horses down, and the leaders tangled in their harness
and kicking furiously till they had broken free.
Volume Two, Chapter XXVII.