Part 34 (1/2)

”My fever,” it ran, ”is happily so abated that I am to be carried this instant into the country. There will be no danger, I am a.s.sured, providing _that I am well wrapped up_. Au revoir! Or is it adieu?--HUGH MARSTON.”

The sarcasm made my blood boil in my veins, and I ran to the sentinels I had posted before the entrances, rating them immeasurably for their negligence. They heard me with all the marks of surprise, and expostulated in some heat. No one, they maintained, who in any way resembled Mr. Marston had left the house; they had watched most faithfully the day long, without a bite of food to stay their stomachs. Somewhat relieved by their words, I took no heed of their forward demeanour, but gave them to understand that if their words were true, they should eat themselves into a stupor an they were so disposed. For I began to fancy that the letter was a ruse to induce me to withdraw my watchmen from the neighbourhood, and thus open a free pa.s.sage for my rival's escape.

With the view of confirming the suspicion, I ordered them to give me a strict and particular account of all persons who had come from the house that day. For those who had kept guard before the front-door the task was simple enough. A few gentlemen had called; but of them only one, whom they imagined to be the physician, had entered the hall. He had reappeared again within half an hour or so of his going in, and, with that exception, no person had departed by this way.

The side-door, however, had been more frequently used. Now and again a servant had come out, or a tradesman had delivered his wares. At one time a cart had driven up, a bale of carpets had been carried into the house, and a second bale fetched out.

”What!” I cried, interrupting the speaker. ”A bale of carpets? At what time?”

He knew not exactly, but 'twas between three and four, for he heard a clock chime the latter hour some while afterwards.

”You dolt!” I cried. ”He was in the carpets.”

”I know nought of that,” he answered sullenly. ”You only bade me note faces, and I noted them that carried the carpets. You said nothing about noting carpets.”

The fellow was justly indignant, I felt; for, indeed, I doubt whether I should have suspected the bale myself but for Marston's letter. So I dismissed the men from their work, and rode slowly back to my lodging.

Marston had three hours' start of me already; by midnight he would have nine, even supposing that Elmscott arrived with trustworthy intelligence. What chance had I of catching, him?

I walked about the room consumed with a fire of impatience. I seemed to hear the beat of hoofs as Marston rode upon the way; and the further he went into the distance, the louder and louder grew the sound, until I was forced to sit down and clasp my head between my hands in a mad fear lest it should burst with the racket. And then I saw him--saw him, as in a crystal, spurring along a white, winding road; and strangely enough the road was familiar to me, so that I knew each stretch that lay ahead of him, before it came in view and was mirrored in my imaginings. I followed him through village and wood; now a river would flash for a second beneath a bridge; now a hill lift in front, and I noticed the horse slacken speed and the rider lean forward in the saddle. Then for a moment he would stand outlined against the sky on the crest, then dip into a hollow, and out again across a heath. At last he came towards the gate of a town. How I prayed that the gate would be barred! We were too distant to ascertain that as yet. He drove his spurs deeper into the flanks of his horse.

The gate was open! He dashed at full gallop down a street; turned into a broad lane at right angles; the beat of hoofs became louder and louder in my ears. Of a sudden he drew rein, and the sound stopped. He sprang from his horse, mounted a staircase, and burst into a room. I heard the door rattle as it was flung open. I knew the room. I recognised the clock in the corner. I gazed about me for the Countess--and Elmscott's hand fell upon my shoulder.

”Why, lad, art all in the dark?”

”I have just reached the light,” I cried, springing up in a frenzy of excitement. ”The Countess Lukstein lies at the 'Thatched House Tavern,' in Bristol town.”

”d.a.m.n!” said Elmscott. ”I have just ridden thither and back to find that out.”

And he fell swearing and cursing in a chair, whilst I rang for candles to be brought.

CHAPTER XV.

THE HALF-WAY HOUSE AGAIN.

I had previously given orders that my horse should be kept ready saddled in the stable, and I now bade the servant bring it round to the door.

”Nay, there's no need to hurry,” said Elmscott comfortably, throwing his legs across a chair. ”Marston will never start before the morning.”

”He has started,” I replied. ”He has seven hours to the good already.

He started between three and four of the afternoon.”

”But you were to follow him,” he exclaimed, starting up. ”You knew the road he was going. You were to follow him.”

”He slipped through my fingers,” said I, with some shame, for Elmscott was regarding me with the same doubtful look which I had noticed so frequently upon Jack Larke's face. ”And as for knowing his road, 'twas a mere guess that flashed on me at the moment of your arrival.”

”Well, well,” said Elmscott, with a shrug, ”order some supper, and if you can lend me a horse we will follow in half an hour.”

Udal fetched a capon and a bottle of canary from the larder, and together we made short work of the meal. For, in truth, I was no less famished than Elmscott, though it needed his appet.i.te to remind me of the fact. Meanwhile, I related in what manner Marston had escaped me, and handed him the letter which the servant had delivered to me in the Lincoln's Inn Fields.