I walked about the room consumed with a fire of impatience. I seemed to hear the beat of hoofs as Marston rode upon the way; and the further he went into the distance, the louder and louder grew the sound, until I was forced to sit down and clasp my head between my hands in a mad fear lest it should burst with the racket. And then I saw him--saw him, as in a crystal, spurring along a white, winding road; and strangely enough the road was familiar to me, so that I knew each stretch that lay ahead of him, before it came in view and was mirrored in my imaginings. I followed him through village and wood; now a river would flash for a second beneath a bridge; now a hill lift in front, and I noticed the horse slacken speed and the rider lean forward in the saddle. Then for a moment he would stand outlined against the sky on the crest, then dip into a hollow, and out again across a heath. At last he came towards the gate of a town. How I prayed that the gate would be barred! We were too distant to ascertain that as yet. He drove his spurs deeper into the flanks of his horse. The gate was open! He dashed at full gallop down a street; turned into a broad lane at right angles; the beat of hoofs became louder and louder in my ears. Of a sudden he drew rein, and the sound stopped. He sprang from his horse, mounted a staircase, and burst into a room. I heard the door rattle as it was flung open. I knew the room. I recognised the clock in the corner. I gazed about me for the Countess--and Elmscott's hand fell upon my shoulder. "Why, lad, art all in the dark?" "I have just reached the light," I cried, springing up in a frenzy of excitement. "The Countess Lukstein lies at the 'Thatched House Tavern,' in Bristol town." "Damn!" said Elmscott. "I have just ridden thither and back to find that out." And he fell swearing and cursing in a chair, whilst I rang for candles to be brought. CHAPTER XV. THE HALF-WAY HOUSE AGAIN. I had previously given orders that my horse should be kept ready saddled in the stable, and I now bade the servant bring it round to the door. "Nay, there's no need to hurry," said Elmscott comfortably, throwing his legs across a chair. "Marston will never start before the morning." "He has started," I replied. "He has seven hours to the good already. He started between three and four of the afternoon." "But you were to follow him," he exclaimed, starting up. "You knew the road he was going. You were to follow him." "He slipped through my fingers," said I, with some shame, for Elmscott was regarding me with the same doubtful look which I had noticed so frequently upon Jack Larke's face. "And as for knowing his road, 'twas a mere guess that flashed on me at the moment of your arrival." "Well, well," said Elmscott, with a shrug, "order some supper, and if you can lend me a horse we will follow in half an hour."