“I am quite ready to start, father. I am engaged to sup with Reginald Ascot, but I will go over this afternoon and make my excuses.” At five o'clock they started. “You have got your pistols in order, Mark?” the Squire asked, as they drove over London Bridge. “I have them handy, father, one in each pocket.” “James, are your pistols charged?” “Yes, sir.” At six o'clock it was beginning to get dusk, and they stopped while the groom got down and lit the lamps; then they resumed their journey. They were within five miles of Reigate when suddenly two horsemen rode out from a side road with a shout of “Stand and deliver!” The Squire lashed the horses, and a moment later a pistol was fired, and the ball went through his hat. By the light of the lamps Mark saw the other man raise his hand, and, leveling his pistol, fired on the instant; then, as there was no reply to his shot, he discharged the second barrel at the first who had fired, and who had at once drawn another pistol. The two reports rang out almost at the same moment, but Mark's was a little the first. There was a sharp exclamation of pain from the highwayman, who wrenched round his horse and galloped down the lane from which he had issued, the groom sending two bullets after him. “Where is the other man?” Mark exclaimed, as his father reined in the horses. “Somewhere on the ground there, Mark; I saw him fall from his saddle as we passed him.” “Is it any use pursuing the other, father? I am pretty sure I hit him.” “I am quite sure you did, but it is no good our following; the side roads are so cut up by ruts that we should break a spring before we had gone a hundred yards. No, we will stop and look at this fellow who is unhorsed, Mark.” The groom got down, and, taking one of the carriage lamps, proceeded to a spot where the highwayman's horse was standing. The man was already dead, the bullet having hit him a few inches above the heart. “He is dead, father.” “I think you had better lift him up on the foot board behind; James can ride his horse. We will hand the body over to the constable at Reigate. He may know who he is, or find something upon him that may afford a clew that will lead to the capture of his companion.” “No, I don't know him, Squire,” the constable said as they stopped before his house and told him what had happened. “However, he certainly is dead, and I will get one of the men to help me carry him into the shed behind the courthouse. So you say that you think that the other is wounded?” “I am pretty sure he is. I heard him give an exclamation as my son fired.” “That is good shooting, Mr. Mark,” the constable said. “If every passenger could use his arms as you do there would soon be an end to stopping coaches. I will see what he has got about him, and will come up and let you know, Squire, the first thing in the morning.”