"They did not see you!" Golding said in alarm. "They will not track you here?" "They were not watching for me. I take it the men were ordered not to follow us beyond Witley, but to wait for other prey that was expected. I did not see how it happened, nor where, only the result. They had captured a coach, and were guarding it on the way to Dorchester. What unfortunate travellers it contained I do not know, I was at too great a distance to see. But in the midst of the villains there was a captured horseman, and they seemed to be ill-treating him. I touched the mare with the spur, thinking to go to his aid, but drew rein again immediately. There was at least a score of men to 'do battle with." "A wise second thought," said Golding. "Leaving a taste in my mouth," said Crosby. "I thought I heard something, Golding." "It was the mare in the shed." "I heard her, but something else besides, I fancy," and, with Golding at his heels, he went out of the hut to listen. There were stars in the sky over the clearing. The night had fallen, and strange sounds came from the gloomy depths of the forest, sounds which might well set an unaccustomed ear intent to catch their meaning. Gilbert Crosby may not have been able to account for all of them, but they did not trouble him. It was another sound he waited and listened for. "There is nothing, Master Gilbert," Golding whispered. "Wait." Golding saw that a pistol was in his master's hand, so he took one slowly from his pocket and tried to look into the darkness. It was well that Gilbert Crosby saw the coach from such a distance, that he could not catch a glimpse of the travellers. Had he known who the travellers were, the spurs would have been driven deep into the mare's flanks and there would have been no drawing rein; had he even recognised the horseman who was being ill-treated he would not have paused to count the cost. A trooper or two might have gone down before his fierce attack, but a score of men, trained in fighting and on the alert, cannot be scattered by one. Gilbert Crosby would have been flung lifeless on the roadside, or overpowered and carried a prisoner to Dorchester. The two women sat silently in the coach. Harriet Payne sobbed quietly. She was tired of abusing Martin, weary of telling her mistress that they ought to have kept to the high road and safety. At first she had broken out at intervals with her wailing, and Barbara's commands to be silent had not much effect.