A coach--one of the night coaches out of Bristol--was standing before

the inn, the horses smoking, the lamps flaring cheerfully, a crowd round

it; the driver had just unbuckled his reins and flung them either way.

Sir George pushed his horse up to the splinter-bar and hailed him,

asking whether he had met a closed chaise and four travelling Bristol

way at speed.

'A closed chaise and four?' the man answered, looking down at the

party; and then recognising Sir George, 'I beg your honour's pardon,' he

said. 'Here, Jeremy,' to the guard--while the stable-man and helpers

paused to listen or stared at the heaving flanks of the riders'

horses--'did we meet a closed chaise and four to-night?' 'We met a chaise and four at Cold Aston,' the guard answered,

ruminating. 'But 'twas Squire Norris's of Sheldon, and there was no one

but the Squire in it. And a chaise and four at Marshfield, but that was

a burying party from Batheaston, going home very merry. No other, closed

or open, that I can mind, sir, this side of Dungeon Cross, and that is

but two miles out of Bristol.' 'They are an hour and a half in front of us!' Sir George cried eagerly.

'Will a guinea improve your memory?' Ay, sir, but 'twon't make it,' the coachman answered, grinning. 'Jeremy

is right. I mind no others. What will your honour want with them?' 'They have carried off a young lady!' Mr. Fishwick cried shrilly. 'Sir

George's kinswoman!' 'To be sure?' ejaculated the driver, amid a murmur of astonishment; and

the crowd which had grown since their arrival pressed nearer to listen.

'Where from, sir, if I may make so bold?' 'From the Castle at Marlborough.' Dear me, dear me, there is audaciousness, if you like! And you ha'

followed them so far, sir?' Sir George nodded and turned to the crowd. 'A guinea for news!' he

cried. 'Who saw them go through Chippenham!' He had not long to wait for the answer. 'They never went through

Chipnam!' a thick voice hiccoughed from the rear of the press.

'They came this way out of Calne,' Sir George retorted, singling the

speaker out, and signing to the people to make way that he might get

at him.

'Ay, but they never--came to Chipnam,' the fellow answered, leering at

him with drunken wisdom. 'D'you see that, master?' 'Which way, then?' Soane cried impatiently. 'Which way did they go?' But the man only lurched a step nearer. 'That's telling!' he said with a

beery smile. 'You want to be--as wise as I be!' Jeremy, the guard, seized him by the collar and shook him. 'You drunken

fool!' he said. 'D'ye know that this is Sir George Soane of Estcombe?

Answer him, you swine, or you'll be in the cage in a one, two!' 'You let me be,' the man whined, straggling to release himself. 'It's no

business of yours,' Let me be, master!' Sir George raised his whip in his wrath, but lowered it again with a

groan. 'Can no one make him speak?' he said, looking round. The man was

staggering and lurching in the guard's grasp.




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