In Pall Mall the carriages were fewer, but the coachman did not quicken his pace, doubtless out of regard for M. de Strasbourg, and at the corner of Pall Mall, where the road was quite empty, he jerked the horses to a standstill. Instantly M. de Strasbourg ran across the road to the carriage, the coachman bent over on that side to watch, and Mr. Kelly, on the other side, ran forward to the box. M. de Strasbourg wrenched open the door and jumped into the carriage. Mr. Kelly heard a woman's scream and sprang on to the box. The coachman turned with a start. Before he could shout, before he could speak, Kelly showed him a pistol (for he went armed) under the man's nose. 'One word,' said Kelly, 'and I will break your ugly face in with the stock of that, my friend.' The woman screamed again; M. de Strasbourg thrust his head out of the window. 'Go on,' he shouted with an oath, 'you know where. At a gallop! Kill the horses, they are not mine! Flog 'em to death so you go but fast enough.' 'To the right,' said Kelly, quietly. The man whipped up the horses. They started at a gallop up St. James's Street. 'To the right,' again whispered Kelly. The carriage turned into Ryder Street, rocking on its wheels. M. de Strasbourg's head was again thrust from the window. 'That's not the way. Are you drunk, man?--are you drunk?' he cried. 'To the left,' says Kelly, imperturbably, and fingered the lock of the pistol a little. The carriage swung into Bury Street. 'Stop,' said Kelly. The coachman reined in his horses; the carriage stopped with a jerk. 'Where in the devil's name have you taken us?' cried M. de Strasbourg, opening the door. Kelly sprang to the ground, ran round the carriage to the open door. 'To the Marchand de dentelles, M. de Strasbourg,' said he with a bow. 'I have some most elegant pieces of _point d'Alencon_ for the lady's inspection.' M. de Strasbourg was utterly dumbfounded. He staggered back against the panels of the carriage; his mouth opened and shut; it seemed there was no language sufficiently chaotic to express his discomposure. At last: 'You are a damned impudent fellow,' he gasped out in a weak sort of quaver. 'Am I?' asked Kelly. 'Shall we ask the lady?' He peeped through the door. The lady was huddled up in a corner--an odd heap of laces, silks, and furbelows, but with never a voice in all the confusion. It seemed she had fainted. Meanwhile M. de Strasbourg turned on the unfortunate coachman. 'Get down, you rascal,' he cried; 'you have been bribed, you're in the fellow's pay. Get down! Not a farthing will you get from me, but only a thrashing that will make your bones ache this month to come.' 'Your honour,' replied the coachman piteously, 'it was not my fault. He offered to kill me unless I drove you here.' M. de Strasbourg in a rage flung back to Kelly. He clapped a hand on his shoulder and plucked him from the carriage door.