He drew up under the trees about forty yards along the drive, within a few yards of the house. Dick heard him breathing heavily. The clattering of hoofs drew nearer: the driver seemed to hold his breath; then, when the horsemen had passed the end of the drive at a fast trot, he heaved a sigh of relief. He waited until the sounds had died away in the distance, and wheeled the horses round. There was not room on the grass for the carriage to turn completely, and the wheels made a crunching sound on the pebbly road. The side of the carriage was still turned to the house when the door opened, and John Trevanion appeared on the threshold, holding a candle above his head, and peering into the dark. CHAPTER THE NINTH Doubledick’s Midnight Guests "Who’s that?" cried Trevanion. Dick, being on the offside, was concealed by the driver’s burly form, but he shrank back against the front of the carriage. He did not wish to meet his cousin’s eyes at that moment, and began to wonder why he was on the box in the rain when he might have ridden inside. "Axin’ yer pardon, sir," replied the coachman, "I be afeard I’ve took the wrong road. ’Tis ’nation dark, and my lamp has gone out." "What was that clattering of horses I heard?" "Ah, I can’t tell ’ee that. I didn’t see no one. Maybe ’twas riding-officer. I axe yer pardon for disturbin’ ye, sir, this terrible bad night and all, and I’ll drive on to village." "You’re a stranger, aren’t you? Have you got anybody in your carriage?" "Never a soul, sir. The truth is, I’ve lost my way, and shan’t be sorry to get out o’ this pesty rain." "’Tis heavier now. Well, good-night. You’ll find a warm room in the inn at the foot of the hill, if the innkeeper hasn’t raked out the fire and gone to bed. Good-night." He retreated with his guttering candle into the house and shut the door, the coachman driving back to the high road. Dick was mystified. Why had the man denied having a passenger? Why had he extinguished his light and turned out of the road on hearing horsemen? The driver said nothing, except to grumble under his breath at the weather, and Dick refrained from questioning him, thinking that some light might be thrown on the mystery when they reached the inn. The carriage had just wheeled into the road when Dick felt a touch on his right arm. He looked round: the passenger was leaning forward out of the window. "How is ze name of zat man—him zat hold ze light?" asked the stranger eagerly. Dick hesitated; then, seeing no reason for not answering, said: "That is Mr. John Trevanion." "Tre—vat say you, if you please?" "Trevanion." "Trevanion!" repeated the questioner, giving a strange intonation to the name. "Ah! Shank you." He withdrew his head into the carriage. Dick heard the driver mutter: "Why can’t he clap a stopper on his tongue, the stunpoll!" He drove slowly down the steep winding hill.