Beauchamp; or, The Error.

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XIV.The Pursuit.

  "I wonder where the deuce Ned Hayward can be gone," was theexclamation of Sir John Slingsby about ten o'clock at night whenhe found that his young guest did not reappear; and so do I wonder,and perhaps so does the reader too. It will therefore be expedient,in order to satisfy all parties, to leave the good people atTarningham-park and pursue our friend at once, for we have no time tospare if we would catch him. He is a desperate hard rider when thereis any object in view, and he certainly left the park on horseback.

  When last we saw him, the hour was about half-past seven or a quarterto eight, night was beginning to fall, and without doing any thingfigurative in regard to the evening--without comparing the retiringrays of light to the retreat of a defeated army, or the changingcolour of the sky to the contents of a London milkmaid's pail underthe influence of the pump--we may be permitted to say that the heavenswere getting very gray; the rose and the purple had waned, and night,heavy night, was pouring like a deluge through the air. Nevertheless,the night was fine, a star or two shone out, and the moment NedHayward sprang to the window through which the ball had come, he saw afigure hurrying away through the trees at the distance of about threehundred yards. They were fine old trees with no underwood--Englishpark trees, wide apart, far-spreading, gigantic; and Ned Haywardpaused an instant to gaze after he had jumped out of the window, andthen took to his heels and ran on as fast as a pair of long, strong,well-practised legs would carry him. There was turf below him and hisfeet fell lightly, but he had not gained more than fifty yards uponthe figure when he saw through the bolls another figure not human butequine. For a short distance the person he pursued did not seem awarethat he had a follower, but before the time arrived when the horsebecame apparent some indications seemed to reach his ear, and, if NedHayward ran quick, the other seemed to run nearly as fast. When theyoung gentleman was within about a hundred yards of him, however, theman was upon the horse's back and galloping away.

  Ned Hayward stopped and followed him with his eyes, marking the coursehe took as far as the light would permit. He then listened, and heardthe noise of the horse's feet distinctly beating the ground in onedirection. The next moment the sounds became confused with others, asif another horse were near, and turning round to the road which ledfrom the gate on the side of Tarningham, the young officer saw amounted man coming slowly up towards the house.

  "By Jove, this is lucky!" said Ned Hayward, as he recollected havingheard Sir John Slingsby tell a groom to carry a note to Mr. Wharton,the lawyer: and running down to the road as fast as possible, hestopped the servant, and bade him dismount and let him have the horseimmediately.

  The groom recognised his master's guest; but he had some hesitation,and began his reply with a "Please, Sir--" But Ned cut him short atonce, in a very authoritative tone; and in two minutes he was in thesaddle. He paused not an instant to think, for calculation was a veryrapid process with him, and, during his morning's rambles, he hadmarked, with a soldier's eye, all the bearings and capabilities of thepark and the ground round about it. The result of his combinations wasthus expressed upon the mental tablet, or nearly thus:--

  "The fellow cannot get out by the way he has taken; for there is nogate, and the park paling is planted at the top of the high bank, sothat no man in England dare leap it. He must take to the right orleft. On the left he will be checked by the river and the thick copsewhich would bring him round close to the house again. He will,therefore, take to the right, and pass the gates on the top of thehill. He must come down half way to the other gates, however, beforehe can get out of the lane; and I shall not be much behind him."

  He rode straight, therefore, to the gates on the Tarningham side,passed them, turned sharp to the left, galloped up the sandy laneunder the park wall, and blessed his stars as he saw the edge of themoon beginning to show itself in the east.

  "Hang me if I give up the chase till I have run him down," said NedHayward; but when a man sets out hunting a fox with such adetermination, he never knows how far the fox or the determination maylead him. Away he went, however, like a shot. The horse was a strong,well-built cob, of about fourteen hands three, which had beenaccustomed to bear the great bulk and heavy riding of Sir JohnSlingsby to cover; and it sprang out under the lighter weight andbetter balance of the younger man, as if it had a feather on its back.Up this hill they went, all gathered together like a woolpack: an easyhand, an easy seat, and an exact poise, made the rider feel to thebeast not half his real weight; and, in two minutes, Ned Hayward'squick ear caught the sound of other hoofs besides those underneathhim. "I shall have him now!" he said; but suddenly the sounds becamefainter. Three springs more and he had the horseman before him; but ata hundred and fifty yards' distance, going over the moor. There was afence and ditch on the right hand; and Ned Hayward pushed his horse atthem. The good little beast rose gallantly by the moonlight; but therewas a ditch on the other side also, which neither saw. He cleared itwith his fore-feet, but his hind went in, and over he came sprawling.Neither rider nor beast were hurt; and Ned Hayward picked him up in aminute, and away again.

  The fugitive had gained ground, nevertheless, and was shooting offlike a falling star; but the moonlight was now bright, lying in longmisty lines upon the moor. A few rapid steps brought them to the sandyroad, and on--on they dashed as if for life. On, however, dashed theother horseman likewise. He knew the ground well, his horse was good,he really rode for life. It was as even a race as ever was seen. Thewide moor extended for miles, every tree and bush was visible, andeven the distant belts of planting where the common ended on the rightcould be seen lying black and heavy against the moonlight sky; but yetthere was a darkness over the ground which showed that it was not day;and still, as he urged the willing beast forward, Ned Hayward kept aready hand upon the bridle in case of need. Soon he thought he gainedupon the other, but then he saw him turn from the sandy road and takeover the turf to the left. Ned Hayward ran across, and pressed hardthe beast's sides. On, on they went; but the next instant the groundseemed darker before him, and the pursuer checked up his horsesuddenly upon the very edge of a deep pit, while the other rode onunobstructed on the further side.

  Not more than a moment was lost or gained, however, for turningquickly round the edge of the pit, though keeping a sharper eye uponthe ground than before, Ned Hayward still followed a diagonal course,which saved him as much of the distance between him and the fugitiveas he had lost by the temporary check. When he, too, had got to theother side of the pit, the space between them was about the same thatit had been at first, but the ground sloped gently downward, and thenspread out in a perfect flat with neither trees nor bushes, althoughsome thick rushy spots assumed here and there the appearance ofbunches of bramble, or bilberry, but afforded no interruption to thehorses' speed, and on they went, helter skelter, over the moor, as ifthe great enemy were behind them.

  In a few minutes a light was visible on the right, and Ned Haywardsaid to himself, "He is making for some house;" but the next instantthe light moved, flitting along from spot to spot, with a blue,wavering, uncertain flame, and with a low laugh, the young gentlemanmuttered, "A will-o'-the-wisp, that shan't lead me astray this time atleast."

  On he dashed keeping the horseman before him; but ere he had passedthe meteor a hundred yards, he felt the pace of his horse uneasy, theground seemed to quiver and shake under his rapid footfalls, and aplashy sound was heard, as if the hoofs sank into a wet and marshysoil.

  "A shaking bog, upon my life," said Ned Hayward, "but as he has goneover it, so can I."

  With his horse's head held lightly up, his heels into its sides, thebridle shaken every minute to give him courage, and a loud "Tally ho!"as if he were in sight of a fox, on went Ned Hayward with the watersplashing up around him till the hoofs fell upon firmer ground, and aslight slope upwards caught the moonlight, and showed the fugitivescampering away with a turn to the right.

  "Hoiks, hoiks! haloo!" cried Ned Hayward, applying the flat of hishand to the horse's f
lank, and, as if inspired by the ardour of thechase, the brave little beast redoubled its efforts, and strained upthe hill after the larger horse, gaining perceptibly upon it.

  Clear and full in the moonlight the dark figure came out from the skyas he cleared the edge of the hill, and in two seconds, or not muchmore, Ned Hayward gained the same point.

  The figure was no longer visible. It had disappeared as if by magic;horse and rider were gone together, and all that could be seen was thegentle slope downward that lay at the horse's feet, a darkish spotbeyond, which the moon's rays did not reach, and then the moorextending for about a couple of miles further, marked in itsundulations by strong light and shade.

  "Why, what the devil is this?" exclaimed Ned Hayward; but though hesometimes indulged in an exclamation, he never let astonishment stophim, and seeing that if the figure had taken a course to the right orleft he must have caught sight of it, he rode straight at the darkspot in front, and found that it consisted of one of the large pits,with which the moor was spotted, filled to the very top of the bankswith low stunted oaks, ashes, and birch trees.

  "Earthed him! earthed him!" said Ned Hayward, as he looked round, buthe made no further observation, and soon perceived the sandy cart-roadwhich the man must have taken to descend into the pit.

  The young gentleman was now a little puzzled; the natural pertinacityand impetuosity of his disposition would have led him to plunge inafter the object of his chase, like a terrier dog after a badger, butthen he saw that by so doing, the man, who knew the ground apparentlymuch better than he did, would have the opportunity of doubling uponhim and escaping his pursuit, while he was losing himself among thetrees and paths. Rapid in all his calculations, and seeing that theextent of the hollow was not very great, so that by the aid of themoonlight, any figure which issued forth would become visible to himas long as he remained above, Ned Hayward trotted round the edge ofthe pit to make himself perfectly sure that there was no small path orbreak in the banks, by which the object he had lodged in the bushesbeneath him, might effect its flight without his perceiving it. Havingascertained this fact, he took up his position on the highest groundnear, that he might command the whole scene round, and thendismounting, led his horse up and down to cool it gradually, saying tohimself, "I will stop here all night rather than lose him. Somepersons must come by in the morning who will help mc to beat thebushes."

  Ned Hayward concluded his reflections, however, with a sentence whichseemed to have very little connexion with them.

  "She's an exceedingly pretty girl," he said, "and seems to be asamiable as she is pretty, but I can't let that stop me."

  I do not at all understand what he meant, but perhaps the reader mayfind some sense in it. But while he was reflecting on pretty girls,and combining them in the honestest way possible with his hunt after aman who had fired a shot into the window of Tarningham House, anobtrusive recollection crossed his mind that moons will go down, andthat then wide open moors with many a shaking bog and pitfall were notthe most lustrous and well-lighted places upon earth, whichremembrance or reflection puzzled him most exceedingly. Though we havenever set up Ned Hayward for a conjuror, he was an exceedingly clever,dashing, and amiable person; but he was far from being either amagician or an astronomer, and not having an almanack in his pocket,nor able to read it if he had, he was not at all aware of the hour atwhich the moon went down. He saw, indeed, that she had already passedher prime, and was verging towards decline, and it was with a veryunpleasant sensation that he thought, "Hang her old untidy horns, shewill be gone before the day breaks, and a pleasant dark place it willbe when she no longer gives me light. I will stop and watch, however,but I must change my tactics, and hide under the hill. Perhaps he maythink I am gone, and come out with fresh courage. The youngblackguard! it would be a good turn to all the world to hang him, ifit is but to prevent him marrying such a nice girl as that, who is agreat deal too good for him. He won't thank me, however, for mypains."

  This thought, somehow or other, was not pleasant to our friend NedHayward, and, indeed, like most of us, in many even of the ordinarycircumstances of life, he was affected by very different emotions. Whyit was, or wherefore, he could not tell, but he had been seized with astrong inclination to hang, or otherwise dispose of any gentleman whomhe could suspect of being a favoured lover of Mary Clifford's; and,yet on the other hand he had every disposition in the world to obligeMary Clifford himself. These two objects seemed incompatible, butthere is a fashion in the world which has a strange knack of trying toovercome impossibilities, and sometimes succeeds too--at least inovercoming those things which fathers and mothers, relations,guardians and friends, have pronounced to be insurmountable. At allevents Ned Hayward made up his mind that it was his duty not toabandon his pursuit so long as there was a chance of its beingsuccessful, and, consequently, he drew his horse a little further fromthe edge of the pit, as soon as he had considered the peculiarcircumstances of Mistress Moon, and endeavoured to keep out of sightas far as possible, while he himself watched eagerly, with nothing buthis head as far as the eyes above the edge of the acclivity.

  Fancy is a wonderful thing, and it has been accounted for some peopleas good as physic. I should say it was better for most men, but yet,taken in too large doses it is dangerous, very dangerous. Now NedHayward had, that night, taken too large a dose, and the effect wasthis: he imagined he was perfectly well acquainted with the figure,person, and appearance of the horseman whom he had hunted from underthe walls of Tarningham-park to the spot where he then stood, with hishorse's bridle over his arm. He could have sworn to him!--very luckyit was that nobody called upon him to do so, as he found out within aquarter of an hour afterwards. Fancy painted his face and his figure,and a tremendous black eye, and a bruised cut down the side of hisnose. Now as the man lay there quietly ensconced in the pit, his facewas very different, his figure not at all the same, and no black eye,no bruised cut, gave evidence of the scuffle which took place twonights before. It was, in fact, quite a different person, and all theyoung gentleman's calculations were wrong together. It is a very happything indeed for a man in the wrong, when he acts in the same manneras he would if he were right. His doing so, it is true, sometimesproceeds from good sense, sometimes from good feeling, sometimes fromfortunate circumstances, but, at all events, such was Ned Hayward'scase in the present instance, for he had made up his mind to remainupon the watch, and he would have watched as zealously and only alittle more pleasantly, if he had known perfectly well who the manwas, instead of mistaking him for another. When he had remained aboutseven minutes and a half, however--I cannot speak to a few secondsmore or less, and a slight mistake will make no great difference, asthe first heat was over, and our friends were only taking breathingtime; but when he had remained for about seven minutes and a half, hishorse shied at something behind him, and when the young gentlemanturned round, he perceived a long shadow cross the space of moonlighton the common, showing that some living object was moving in aslanting direction between him and the south-western side of the sky.The first question he asked himself was naturally, who he could be,and the first answer that suggested itself was, "Perhaps one of thisfellow's comrades."

  Two to one, however, were not odds that at all daunted our youngfriend; and turning quite round, for an instant he looked at thefigure as it came down, and then directed his eyes towards the edge ofthe pit again. He kept a sharp look upon the approaching party,however, nor, though the step upon the soft turf made no great sound,his eyes were suddenly brought round upon the visitor of his solitarywatch, when about ten yards still remained between them. The moon nowserved our good friend as well as if he had been a lover, showing himdistinctly the face, features, and figure of the person before him,and he instantly exclaimed,--

  "Ah, Stephen, this is lucky! What brought you here?"

  "Why, Sir," answered the man, "this is part of my beat, and as soon asI had got some supper down at the village, as it is not fair to take agentleman's money without doing something for
it, and as I am ratheraccustomed to a walk on a moonlight night, I might as well just comeout to see that all is safe. I can guess what brought you here, forNed, the groom, told me you had taken his horse and were off like ashot."

  "Hush," said Ned Hayward, "don't speak so loud, my good fellow; I haveearthed him amongst those trees in the pit there, but I could not dighim out, for I was afraid he would escape one way while I was huntinghim the other."

  "Ah! ah! you have got him, then?" said Gimlet, "then, that's a pieceof luck. If he swings it will be no bad job; a bloody-mindedscoundrel!"

  Ned Hayward was somewhat surprised to hear his friend Wolf qualify byso unsavoury an epithet a gentleman, whose friend and companion he hadvery lately been; the young officer, however, knew a good deal of theworld and the world's ways, and he was not at all inclined to honourthe ci-devant poacher for so sudden a change of opinion. His firstthought was, this man must be a scoundrel at heart, after all, toabuse a man whom he has been consorting with in this manner, withoutany motive for so doing, except the simple fact of a change in his ownavocations. If he thought young Wittingham a very respectable persontwo or three hours ago, when he himself was only Wolf the poacher, Ido not understand why he should judge him a bloody-minded villain, nowthat he himself has become Stephen Gimlet, second keeper to Sir JohnSlingsby. This does not look like honesty.

  A second thought, however, upon all he had seen of the man'scharacter, the frankness, the hardihood, even the dogged determinationhe had shown induced Captain Hayward to say to himself, "The fellowcan't know who it is;" and as thought is a very rapid thing, hereplied with a perceptible pause, "Yes, I have got him, safe and sure,and if you'll help he cannot get away. You guess who he is, I daresay, Stephen?"

  "O, to be sure, Sir," answered Gimlet; "it is that young scoundrel,Harry Wittingham. Bad's the crow and bad's the egg," he continued,without knowing he was using a Greek proverb, "I suppose it can be noone else; for I heard from the old housekeeper down in the town, thathe swore like fury that he would have vengeance on his father if helaid the information against him before Sir John."

  "Humph!" said Ned Hayward; "but then," he thought, "l am rather hardupon the man too. The idea of any one in cold blood firing a shot athis own father is certainly enough to rouse the indignation anddisgust even of men who would wink at, or take part in, lesser crimesto which they are more accustomed. Come, Stephen," he continued aloud,"now you are here, we may do better than I could alone. Let us seewhat is to be done."

  "O, we'll soon manage it, Sir," answered Wolf, "I know every bit ofthe pit well enough; there is but one place he can go to with hishorse, and but one road up the bank. He can round the inside of thepit two ways, sure enough, but what we had best do is, to go in tillwe can see what he is about, and then have a rush upon him together orseparate, or out him off either way."

  Captain Hayward agreed in this view of the case, and after a few morewords of consultation, the horse was fastened to a scraggy hawthorntree, and stooping down as low as possible to conceal their approach,Captain Hayward and his companion advanced along the cart-road downinto the pit. The moment after they began to descend, the bank on theright cast a shadow over them, which favoured their operations, andGimlet, taking the lead, crept silently along a path which had onceserved for the waggons that carried the sand out of the pit, but wasnow overgrown with grass and hemmed in with bushes, shrubs, and treesof forty or fifty years growth. No moonlight penetrated there, and allwas dark, gloomy, and intricate. Now the path turned to the right, nowto the left, then proceeded straight forward again, and then began tomount a little elevation in the surface, or floor, as the miners wouldcall it, of the pit itself, still thickly surrounded by green shrubs,through which, however, the slanting beams of the moon were shiningover the edge of the pit. Stephen Gimlet's steps became even stillmore quiet and cautious, and he whispered to Ned Hayward to walklightly for fear the fugitive should catch a sound of their approach,and make his escape. Each step occupied several seconds, so carefullywas it planted; the slight rustling of the leaves, catching upon theirclothes, and each falling back upon a branch, which, pushed aside asthey passed, was dashed back upon those behind, made them pause andlisten, thinking that the object of their eager pursuit must havecaught the sound as well as their own nearer ears. At length StephenGimlet stopped, and putting back his hand, helped his companion alooffor an instant, while he leaned forward and brought his eyes close toa small hole between the branches. Then, drawing Ned Hayward forward,he pointed in the same direction in which he had been looking, withhis right finger, and immediately laid it upon his lips as a token tobe silent. Ned Hayward bent his head and gazed through the aperture ashis companion had done. The scene before him was a very peculiar one.In broken beams, filtered, as we may call it, by the green leaves andhigher branches, the moonlight was streaming upon a small open space,where the ground rose into a swelling knoll, covered with green turfand moss. There was one small birch-tree in the midst, and a hawthornby its side, but all the rest was clear, and on the right hand couldbe seen, marked out by the yellow sand, the cart-road which led to themoor above. Standing close to the two little trees was a horse, afine, strong, powerful bay, with a good deal of bone and sinew, longin the reach, but what is unusual in horses of that build, with achine and shoulder like those of a wild boar. Close to the horse, withthe bridle thrown over his arm, and apparently exceedingly busy uponsomething he was doing, stood a tall, powerful man, whose face, fromthe position in which he had placed himself, could not be seen; hisback, in short, was towards Ned Hayward and his companion, but fromunder his left arm protruded part of the stock of a gun, which amoonbeam that fell upon it, showed as plainly as the daylight couldhave done. From the position in which he held the firelock it seemedto Ned Hayward as if he were attending to the priming, and the momentafterwards the click of the pan showed that the supposition wascorrect.

  At the same time this sound met his ear the young gentleman was drawngently back by the hand of his companion, and the latter whispered,"That's Harry Wittingham's horse, I'd swear to him amongst a thousand,but that's not Henry Wittingham himself, of that I'm quite sure."

  "I cannot see his face," answered Ned Hayward, in the same low tone,"but the figure seems to me very much the same."

  "Hush! he's moving," said the man; "better let us go round and cut himoff by either road, you to the right and I to the left--straightthrough that little path there--we shall have a shot for it, but wemust not mind that--see he is looking at his girths."

  The man whom they spoke of had seemed perfectly unconscious of thepresence of any such unwelcome visitors near him. His motions were allslow and indifferent, till the last words had passed Stephen Gimlet'slips; then, however, he turned suddenly round, displaying a face thatCaptain Hayward did not at all recollect, and gazing direct to thespot where they stood, he raised his gun, already cocked, to hisshoulder, and fired.

  Fortunately, it so happened that Ned Hayward had taken one step in thedirection which his companion had pointed out, otherwise the ball,with which the piece was charged, would have passed right through hisbreast. As it was, it grazed his left arm, leaving a slight fleshwound, and, seeing that they were discovered, both he and StephenGimlet dashed straight through the trees towards the object of theirpursuit. He, in the meantime, had put his foot in the stirrup, andsprung upon his horse's back. One rushed at him on either side, butperchance, at all hazards and at all events, without a moment'sconsideration, the man dashed at the poacher, brandishing the gunwhich he held in his hand like a club. As he came up without givingground an inch, Stephen clutched at his bridle, receiving a tremendousblow with the stock of his gun, and attempting to parry it with hisleft hand. The man raised his rein, however, at the same moment hestruck the blow, and Stephen missed the bridle. He struck at him, withhis right, however, in hope of bringing him from his horse, and withsuch force and truth did he deliver his reply to the application ofthe gun-stock, that the man bent down to the horse's mane, but at thesame time he
struck his spurs deep into the beast's flanks, passed hisopponent with a spring, and galloped up to the moor.

  "I am away after him," cried Ned Hayward, and darting along the roadlike lightning, he gained the common, unhooked his own horse from thetree, and recommenced the pursuit with the same figure still flyingbefore him.

  The steep rise of the pit had somewhat blown the fugitive's horse, andfor the first hundred yards or so Captain Hayward gained upon him, buthe soon brought all his knowledge of the country to bear, every pond,every bank, every quagmire, gave him some advantage, and when, at theend of about ten minutes, they neared the plantations at the end ofthe moor, he was considerably further from his pursuers than whentheir headlong race began. At length he disappeared where the road ledin amongst trees and hedgerows, and any further chase seemed topromise little. Ned Hayward's was a sadly persevering disposition,however; he had an exceedingly great dislike to be frustrated in anything, and on he therefore rode without drawing a rein, thinking, "inthis more populous part of the country I shall surely meet with somewhom he has passed, and who will give me information."

  It was a wonderfully solitary, a thinly peopled district, however,which lay on the other side of the moor from Tarningham. They wentearly to bed, too, in that part of the world, and not a living souldid Ned Hayward meet for a full mile up the long lane. At the end ofthat distance, the road branched into three, and in the true spirit ofknight-errantry, the young gentleman threw down his rein on thehorse's neck, leaving it to carry him on in search of adventures,according to its own sagacity. The moor was about four miles and ahalf across; but in the various turnings and windings they had taken,now here now there upon its surface, horse and man had contrived totreble that distance, or perhaps something more. There had been a trotto the town before and back again, a hand-canter through the park, andthen a tearing burst across the moor. The horse therefore thought,with some reason, that there had been enough of riding and beingridden for one night, and as soon as Ned Hayward laid down the reinsit fell from a gallop to a canter, from a canter to a trot, and wasbeginning to show an inclination to a walk, if not to stand still,when Ned Hayward requested it civilly with his heels to go on a littlefaster. It had now selected its path, however, remembering Ovid'saxiom, that the middle of the road is the safest. This was all thatNed Hayward could have desired at its hands, if it had had any; but ofits hoofs he required that they should accelerate their motions, andon he went again at a rapid pace, till, suddenly turning into a highroad, he saw nearly before him on the left hand, six large elms in arow, with a horse-trough under the two nearest; an enormous signswinging between the two central trees, and an inn, with four steps upto the door, standing a little back from the road.

  There was a good light streaming from some of the windows; the moonwas shining clear, but the dusty old elms were thick with foliage,which effectually screened the modest figures on the sign from thegarish beams of either the domestic or the celestial luminary.

  Ned Hayward drew in his rein as soon as he beheld the inn and itsaccompaniments; then approached softly, paused to consider, andultimately rode into the court-yard, without troubling the people ofthe house with any notification of his arrival. He found two men inthe yard in stable dresses, who immediately approached with somewhatofficious civility, saying, "Take your horse, Sir?"

  And Ned Hayward, dismounting slowly, like a man very much tired, gavehis beast into their hands, and affected to saunter quietly back tothe inn, while they led his quiet little cob into the stables. Thensuddenly turning, after he had taken twenty steps, he followed at abrisk pace, he passed the stable-door, walking deliberately down thewhole row of horses in the stalls, till he stopped opposite one--abright bay, with a long back, and thick, high crest, which was stillcovered with lather, and had evidently been ridden furiously not manyminutes before.

  Turning suddenly to the ostler and his help, who had evidently viewedhis proceedings with more consternation than was quite natural, heplaced himself between them and the door and demanded with a bent browand a stern tone, "Where is the master of this horse?"

  The help, who was nearest, gasped in his face like a caught trout, butthe ostler pushed him aside, and replied instantly, "He is in-doors,Sir, in number eleven."

  And turning on his heel, Ned Hayward immediately entered the inn.