For a moment his eyes were dazzled with the sudden light about him, then he blinked it away and went forward. He seemed scarcely to feel the solid ground beneath him, nor to hear his own step, for the pounding of the blood in his temples. Yet there was no fear nor any feeling within him, only he saw the opened door to the lighted stable, and he stepped in boldly. There he halted and of a sudden griped at the side of the door to hold himself erect. For just before him, saddled, bridled, and all, stood two horses, a black and a bay, which he had last caressed in the stable of Everscombe Manor. Beside the bay loitered a stalwart young officer, who at his step glanced up and showed the face of Peregrine Oldesworth. “Hugh!” he cried amazedly, and the troopers, unsaddling the horses at the farther end of the stable, looked up at the cry. Hugh felt his nerves tingle, but with a calmness that seemed no part of him he walked into the stable. “Good even, Cousin Peregrine,” he said quietly, though his voice shook a trifle. “May I lead out the horses to water?” His hands closed on the reins of the bay and the black. “What are you doing here?” Peregrine asked astonishedly. “What I can,” Hugh replied, with growing confidence. “You’ve come down in the world, Master Runaway,” said Peregrine, and by his look Hugh knew he was not sorry that his proud cousin should groom his horse. That triumphant look strengthening him mightily, he deliberately faced the horses about and led them the few steps to the door. “I’m down, Cousin Peregrine,” he said, with a quick laugh, “but maybe I’ll be up in the saddle again.” “What are you about with the horses?” Peregrine cried, with a first realization that all was not well. “Halt, there!” For answer Hugh gave a cry of “Dick!” and jerking at the bits brought the two horses into the courtyard on the run. The beasts were plunging and wrenching at their bridles, behind him he heard the stamp of men rushing across the stable,—all in a second,—then a dark figure had sprung out from the shelter of the shed. “Look to yourself, Hugh!” Strangwayes shouted, and helter-skelter Hugh made a spring for the back of the bay horse. He got the reins in his hand anyhow and his leg across the saddle, then, griping the pommel and the horse’s mane, clung for his life as the frightened animal dashed for the gate. Men were shouting and running, he heard the thud of another horse behind him, the crack of a pistol, then, as he galloped past the inn, a casement suddenly swung open. A bar of light dazzled in his eyes, and for the fraction of an instant he saw the face of Thomas Oldesworth, as he leaned out, pistol in hand. He heard the report of the shot, and then he flung himself forward in the saddle to save his head from the bar at the gate.