Adventure stories; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Love stories; Young men -- Fiction
"Hurry--hurry! A guinea--ten guineas for your best speed! Drive, man,
drive like the devil. Whip--spur!"
I remember tossing money to a hoarse-voiced toll-keeper in a fur cap,
and we were off in full career, the light chaise rocking and swaying.
I remember Anthony's look of surprise and my answering his
half-hearted questions at random or not at all, for now I rode, my
head out-thrust from the window, hearkening for the sound of galloping
hoofs ahead of us.
And so at last, after an eternity as it seemed, the chaise slowed
again and came to an abrupt standstill before a dimly-seen building
and, peering out, I made out the sign:
THE ANCHOR INN.
Next moment I had sprung out into the road and, not waiting for
Anthony, hastened into the place, opened a door at random, and found
myself in a small room where smoked a miserable fire over which
lounged two languid gentlemen well coated and muffled against the
chill of dawn.
"Sirs," said I, acknowledging their bows, "pray have you seen two
horsemen pass lately?"
"Horsemen, sir?" repeated a dashing gentleman who seemed all whiskers,
teeth and greatcoat. "'Pon my honour, no--stop a bit--yes, I did! They
rode towards Maidstone, I fancy, sir."
"Did they stop to make any enquiries--either of them?"
"Stop, sir? No, sir--devil a bit!" answered the gentleman, flashing
his teeth and shaking his whiskers to such a degree that I doubted him
on the spot. At this moment Anthony appeared, whereupon ensued more
polite bows and flourishes; and now the other gentleman addressed us,
a plethoric, red-faced man in a furred, blue frock.
"Our friend Trenchard desired us to await you, gentlemen, to inform
you that he has changed the ground. The--the--ah--affair will not take
place behind the inn here as first intended, but in a place somewhat
more secluded. If you will pray have the goodness to accompany us, we
will--ah--show you the way."
So we set out accordingly, I, for one, little heeding or caring
whither we went.
Now it chanced we came to a narrow way where but two might go abreast
and I found myself walking beside the whiskered gentleman who prattled
to me very pleasantly, I believe, though of what I cannot recall.
After a while the path brought us to a rough track hard beside a
little wood and here stood a roomy travelling-chaise and beside this
the man Trenchard or Devereux, talking and laughing with Captain Danby
and another.
I remember returning their salutes with a perfunctory bow, but
recollect little else, for now that my time was so near, a numbness
seemed to cloud my brain and I could think only that this little
copse, full of the grey mist of dawn, was perhaps the last object my
eyes should ever see.
"I told one of 'em," said Anthony in my ear, "fellow in blue frock
yonder, that you were the dooce an' all with a hair trigger--almost as
dead a shot as your uncle Jervas or Gronow of the Guards, and begad,
it's set 'em all by the ears, Perry, especially that scoundrel Danby."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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