Into the torch-filled courtyard rolled the Lady Barbara's coach. There
was little need for the lady to tell her own story. Mistress Benton's
shrieks were filling the air. The maids were squealing and praying
Heaven to save them. Drennins and the shamed coach boys were cursing
roundly.
"Thieves! Murder! Robbery!" screamed Mistress Benton. "We are killed!"
Even the Lady Barbara's white hand could not quell the tumult, and,
all the time, her frightened eyes rested tremulously everywhere save
on Lord Farquhart's face.
"Here, here, not a hundred paces from the inn," screamed Mistress
Benton. "He robbed us. He stole our all. Oh, just Heaven! We are all
murdered."
Here the Lady Barbara's hand did produce silence in one quarter by
clasping Mistress Benton's mouth with its long, slim fingers.
But from one and another the story was soon out. They had, indeed,
been stopped at the points of a dozen pistols! This version was told
by one of the coach boys.
"A dozen, man!" scoffed Barbara. Even her voice was slightly
tremulous. "There was one lone highwayman, a single highwayman in
black mask and coat and hat!"
"'Twas the Black Devil himself!" cried the chorus of men, who had
watched calmly at the inn while the outrage was occurring.
"One man! And the horses' legs knotted in a haze of ropes strung over
the road!" cried Drennins, determined to maintain the number to which
he had been willing to yield his own and his lady's life. "One man!
God's truth! There must have been at least a dozen!"
"Ay, but 'twas Barbara's own fault!" Mistress Benton cried, but again
Barbara's hand silenced her in the same way, and now Barbara's own
voice rang out clear and decisive.
"Why do we dally here?" she demanded. "The story's all told, and I've
given my word that the fellow should go free. There's little loss--a
few jewels and an old glove. Nay, nay, Lord Percy. My word is given.
You shall neither go yourself nor send your servants after the fellow.
He is absolutely safe from molestation from me and mine." Her eyes now
rested with curious insistence on Lord Farquhart's face, but he could
not read the riddle in them. "And now"--the lady leaned back
wearily--"if this clamor might all cease! I am desperately weary. Get
me to my aunt's house with as much speed as possible."
There was a short conference among the men, and then the little group
separated. But the lady had only closed her eyes. Her ears were eager.
She sat suddenly erect.
"No, Mr. Ashley," she cried, summarily; "a woman's word is as weighty
as a man's. Mine has been given. I desire that you should all of
you--all, every one--ride with me to London."
In spite of her peremptory commands, there was still further parley
before the coach was once more in progress, but the Lady Barbara, held
in converse by Mr. Ashley, did not hear it, nor did she see that one
of her escorting cavaliers remained behind when the coach moved on.
"I've reasons of my own for knowing whether the fellow still lingers
in this vicinity," Cecil Lindley had declared. "I'll promise not to
harm him, not to hold him; but I'll search the spot where Lady
Barbara's coach was stopped."
"But not single-handed!" Lord Farquhart had cried. "If you must stay,
if you must go on your fool's errand, at least take one or more of the
men with you."
"Nay, I've no fear for myself, but--but----" Lindley had hesitated.
"Our gentleman highwayman knows the standing of his victims too well
for me to have fear for my own safety. But I'll go alone, for I'll
pass the night at my cousin Ogilvie's. His place is near at hand, and
I'd not care to quarter men on him at this unseemly hour. Good luck to
you," he had cried; "and good luck to me," he had added, as he
separated himself from them and rode away.