Part 76 (1/2)

The horses were coming down the lane.

CHAPTER XII

THE NIGHT-RIDE

The sound of hoofs came nearer; Anthony's heart, as he crouched below the window, ready to spring up and over when the signal was given, beat in sick thumpings at the base of his throat, but with a fierce excitement and no fear. His hands clenched and unclenched. Mr. Buxton stood back a little, waiting; he must feign to be asleep at first.

Then came suddenly a sharp challenge from the sentry.

”It is Mistress Corbet,” came Mary's cool high tones, ”and I desire to speak with Mr. Buxton.”

The man hesitated.

”You cannot,” he said.

”Cannot!” she cried; ”why, fellow, do you know who I am? And I have just supped with him.”

There came a sudden sound from the other side of the summer-house, and both men in the room knew that the guards in the garden were listening.

”I am sorry, madam, but I have no orders.”

”Then do not presume, you hound,” came Mary's voice again, with a ring of anger. ”Ho, there, Mr. Buxton, come to the window.”

”Be ready,” he whispered to Anthony.

”Stand back, madam,” said the pursuivant, ”or I shall call for help.”

Then Mr. Buxton threw back the window.

”Who is there?” he asked coolly. (”Stand up Anthony.”)

”It is I, Mr. Buxton, but this insolent dog----”

”Stand _back_, madam, I say,” cried the voice of the guard. Then from the garden behind came running footsteps and voices; and a red light shone through the windows behind.

”Now,” whispered the voice over Anthony's head sharply.

There came a loud shout from the guard, ”Help there, help!”

Anthony put his hands on to the sill and lifted himself easily. The groom had slipped from his horse while Mary held the bridle, and was advancing at the guard, and there was something in his hand. The sentry, who was standing immediately under the window, now dropped his pike point forward; and as a furious rattling began at the doors on the garden side, Anthony dropped, and came down astride of the man's neck, who crashed to the ground. Then the groom was on him too.

”Leave him to me, sir. Mount.”

The groom's hands were busy with something about the struggling man's neck: the shouts choked and ceased.

”You will strangle the man,” said Anthony sharply.

”Nonsense,” said Mary; ”mount, mount. They are coming.”