Mistress Felgate gave her permission with the stipulation that her husband must run no needless risks, the compact was sealed by a kiss bestowed by her gallant and unabashed bridegroom, and the conversation was resumed, while mirth and gaiety reigned supreme. My mind, however, was too full of feverish anxiety for me to enjoy the festivities, and drawing Greville aside, I discussed our forthcoming journey. "And if you find that Joyce has forestalled you?" he asked. "Then I’ll track him to the utmost end of the earth." "And then----?" "Greville, you know that I am not a revengeful man by nature, but I swear that that villain dies by my hand." "Then why didn’t you kill him at Haarlem?" "And get hanged for my pains? No, no! ’Tis a waiting game." Presently Felgate joined us, and together we slipped out of the house, crossed the street, and entered the establishment that Nicholas Wade ran under the designation of posting stables. The owner, bald-headed, high-shouldered, and bow-legged like many of his class, came forth and mincingly asked what we required. "Horses, man, horses! The best you have in your stables. "For how long, your honour?" "As long as it serves us. This bay will suit me." "And I take a fancy to that black mare," added Drake. "Nay, you’ve forestalled me," rejoined Felgate laughingly. "But no matter, the brown nag will serve me, for of a verity I feel more at home in a jollyboat than on the back of that beast." The question of terms was quickly settled, and the mounts were ordered to be brought round at nine the next morning. Then we went back to enjoy the festivities, longing the while for the morrow to come. CHAPTER XIX--How Three Horsemen set out for the North Punctually to the minute our steeds were brought round, the farewells were said, and with a loose rein we cantered down the narrow cobble-paved street towards the Landport Gate. The horses’ hoofs echoed under the dark gateway and clattered across the drawbridge, the town of Portsmouth was left behind, and the dense cluster of timbered and red-tiled houses gave place to verdant fields and clumps of tall trees that even now were beginning to burst into leaf. We were each armed with sword and pistols, for the highways were far from safe, and we wot not what awaited us at our journey’s end. The fine spring morning told on our spirits and we were in good humour. Conversation, mingled with laugh and jest, flowed fast, and one would have imagined we were setting out for a holiday rather than on an expedition on which fortune, nay life and death, depended. At the summit of Portsdown we halted to look back upon the good old seaport once more, then we cantered easily down the long slope to the village of Purbrook. Then came the steady climb through the Forest of Bere, where memories of a journey seven years before rose before my mind.