"No: I swear I'm not," cried the dragoon, in a voice so full of anguish, that they felt his words were true. "Tell me, is it Miss Denville?" "Yes." "Curse him! I'll have his life," cried the man savagely. "This way, quick!" "What are you going to do?" cried Linnell, as Bell set off at a sharp run towards the main street of the town. "Come with me and see." "No: I shall get a post-chaise and four." "And give them an hour's start," cried the dragoon. "Horses, man, horses." "Where can we get them quickly?" "In Major Rockley's stable, curse him!" was the reply. In five minutes they were at the stable, and the dragoon threw open the door. "Can you saddle a horse?" he panted, as they entered the place, dimly lit by a tallow candle in a swinging horn lantern. "Yes--yes," was the reply. "Quick then. Everything's ready." Each ran to a horse, the head-stalls were cast loose, and the order of the well-appointed stable stood them in such good stead that, everything being at hand, in five minutes the three horses were saddled and bridled, and being led out, champing their bits. "We've no spurs. Where are the whips?" "They want no whips," cried the dragoon excitedly; "a shake of the rein and a touch of the heel. They're chargers, gentlemen. Can you ride, Mr Linnell?" "Yes," was the answer; and as it was given Linnell's foot was painfully raised to the stirrup. He stopped though, and laid his hand upon the dragoon's shoulder. "The London Road?" he said, looking him full in the eyes. "The Weymouth Road, I tell you." Another half minute and they were mounted and clattering down the lane to turn into the main street, up which the three sleek creatures pressed, hanging close together, and snorting, and rattling their bits as they increased their stride. "Steady--steady--a carriage," cried Mellersh; and they opened out to ride on either side of a chariot with flashing lamps, and as they passed they had a glimpse of Lady Drelincourt being escorted home from the party by Sir Matthew Bray. "Steady!" cried Mellersh again, as they came in sight of the cluster of lamps and carriages by Mrs Pontardent's gates; and but for his insistance there would have been a collision, for another carriage came out and passed them, the wheel just brushing Linnell's leg in the road narrowed by a string of carriages drawn up to the path. "Now we're clear," said Mellersh; and they cantered by the wall, past the lane in which the chaise had been waiting, past a few more houses and the ragged outskirts, always mounting, and then bearing off to the left as the way curved, till there it lay, the broad chalk western road, open, hard, and ready to ring to their horses' beating hoofs. "Now then, forward!" cried the dragoon hoarsely. "At a trot!" shouted Mellersh. "No, no; gallop!" roared the dragoon, and his horse darted ahead. "Halt!" shouted Mellersh in a ringing voice, for he had not forgotten old field-practice; and the three horses stopped short.