"Right up through the grounds, sir; or along outside here, till you come to the lane that goes round by the back. But it's always kept locked." "Stop here, Mellersh, while I go round and see," whispered Linnell. "If I shout, come to me." "Yes; go on. It is not likely." They went outside together, past the wondering group of servants, and then separating, Linnell was starting off when Mellersh ran to him. "No blows, Dick," he whispered, "Be content with separating them." Linnell nodded, and was starting again when a man ran up out of the darkness, and caught Mellersh hastily by the arm. "Seen a post-chaise about here, sir?" "Post-chaise, my man?" "Yes, sir--four horses--was to have been waiting hereabouts. Lower down. Haven't heard one pass?" "No," said Linnell quickly; "but what post-chaise? Whose? Speak man!" "Who are you?" said the man roughly. "Never mind who I am," cried Linnell. "Tell me who was that post-chaise waiting for?" The man shook him off with an oath, and was starting again on his search, when about fifty yards away there was the tramp of horses, the rattle and bump of wheels; and then, as by one consent, the three men ran towards the spot, they caught a faint glimpse of a yellow chaise turning into the main road; then there was the cracking of the postboys' whips, and away it went over the hard road at a canter. "Too late!" groaned the man, as he ran on, closely followed by Linnell and Mellersh. "Too late!" groaned Linnell; but he ran on, passing the man, who raced after him, though, and for about a quarter of a mile they kept almost together, till, panting with breathlessness and despair, and feeling the utter hopelessness of overtaking the chaise on foot, Linnell turned fiercely on the runner and grasped him by the throat. "You scoundrel!" he panted. "You knew of this. Who's in that chaise?" "Curse you! don't stop me. Can't you see I'm too late?" cried the man savagely. "Linnell! Are you mad?" cried Mellersh, coming up. "Linnell!--are you Linnell?--Richard Linnell?" panted the man, ceasing his struggles. "Yes. Who are you?" "Don't waste time, man," groaned the other. "We must stop them at any cost. Did you see them go? Who is it Major Rockley has got there?" "A lady we know," said Mellersh quickly. "Who are you?" "The drunken fool and idiot who wanted to stop it," groaned Bell. "Here, Linnell," he said, "what are you going to do?" "The man's drunk, and fooling us, Mellersh," cried Linnell excitedly. "Quick! Into the town and let's get a post-chaise. They are certain to take the London Road." "No," cried Bell excitedly; "he would make for Weymouth. Tell me this, though, gentlemen," he cried, clinging to Linnell's arm. "I am drunk, but I know what I am saying. For God's sake, speak: is it Claire Denville?" "Who are you?" cried Mellersh sharply. "Stand off, or I'll knock you down. It is the Major's man, Dick, and he's keeping us back to gain time. I didn't know him at first."