"But," quoth I, as our men put their horses to the gallop. "How the devil could any one have got so soon upon our track?" "Why, Idsleigh may have turned informer, in his own interest--he was in a devilish difficult position--and men would be sent with our descriptions to the post-houses. 'Tis merely possible. Or our hackney-coachman may have guessed something, and dogged me to the Strand, and informed. If they found where we started, of course they could track us from stage to stage. 'Tis best to be safe--though I scarce think they're in our pursuit." "Egad, they're in somebody's!" I cried. "Their postilions are shouting to ours to stop." "Never mind those fellows' holloing," called Philip to our riders. "'Tis a wager--and I'll double that crown apiece." We bowled over the road in a way to make me think of Apollo's chariot and the horses of Phaeton; but we lengthened not a rod the stretch betwixt us and our followers, though we nullified their efforts to diminish it. We could make out, more by sight than by hearing--for we kept looking back, our heads thrust out at either side--that the pursuing post-boys continued bawling vehemently at ours. What they said, was drowned by the clatter of horses and wheels. "Well, they have seen we are two men," said Philip, "and still they keep up the race. They certainly must want us. Were they merely in a hurry to reach Hastings, they could do that the sooner by sparing their horses--this is a killing pace." "Then we're in a serious plight," said I. "Though we may beat 'em to Hastings, they will catch us there." "Unless we can gain a quarter of an hour's start, and, by one chance in twenty, find the Doughty boys ashore, and their boat in harbour." "Ay, there's one chance in twenty, maybe," I growled, looking gloomily back, and wishing I might see the pursuing chaise upset, or one of its horses stumble. There is an old proverb about evil wishes rebounding to strike the sender; and a recollection of this was my paramount thought a moment later: for at a sharp turn our chaise suddenly seemed to leap into the air and alight on one wheel, and then turned over sidewise with what appeared to be a solemn deliberation, piling me upon Philip in a heap. We felt the conveyance dragged some yards along the road, and then it came to a stop. A moment later we heard the postilions cursing the horses, and then we clambered out of the upper side of the chaise, and leaped into the road. We had been knocked, shaken, and bruised, but were not seriously hurt. "Here's the devil to pay," cried the older postilion excitedly, turning his attention from the trembling horses to the wrecked vehicle. "We will pay--but you will let us ride your horses the rest of the way?" asked Phil, quietly, rather as a matter of form than with any hope of success. "No, sir!" roared the man. "Bean't there damage enough? Just look--"