"Yes," said Mellersh, as the man went on talking and buckling with his head supporting the saddle-flap. "You don't get such a nag as that for a leader, eh?" "No, sir, not likely. Fifteen pounders is about our cut. That one's worth a hundred. All of a sweat he is, and yet not a bit blown. You've come fast, sir." "Yes; at a good rattling gallop nearly all the ten miles." "'Leven, sir, a good 'leven, and a bad road." "Is it, though?" said Mellersh quietly, as he prepared to mount again. "All that, sir." "Postboys' miles, eh?" "No, sir; honest miles. We'd charge twelve. Wouldn't you like them stirrups shortened two or three holes?" said the man eagerly. "No, thanks; no. I'm an old soldier, and we always ride with a long stirrup. Matter of use. Shall we catch them, do you think?" "What, with them horses, sir? Yes, easy. They've got a shocking bad team. They never have a decent change here. Lookye here, sir. You put on a decent canter, and you'll be up to them before they get to Drumley. The road's awful for wheels for about six miles; but when you get about a mile on from here, you can turn off the road on the off-side, and there's five miles of good, close turf for you where a chaise couldn't go, but there's plenty of room for a horse. Good-night, sir; thankye, sir. Good luck to you." Mellersh said "good-night" and cantered off after his companions, his steed needing no urging to join its fellows. "Anyone would think that a guinea dissolved into golden oil and made a man's temper and his tongue run easily. I can't prove it, but I should not be surprised if that was one of Rockley's own guineas. Odd. Running him down with his own horses, and his own coin. Well, he deserves it all." "We're on the track right enough, Dick," he cried, as he overtook Linnell; Bell, in his impatience, being a couple of hundred yards ahead. "Are you sure? I don't understand this fellow. Why should he be so eager to overtake that scoundrel?" "Can't say. Puzzled me," replied Mellersh drily. "Is he leading us wrong?" "No. We are well on our way, and shall overtake them by the time they reach the next posting house. Forward." Mellersh did not feel quite sure, but his confidence increased as he found the postboy's words correct about the badness of the road, and the smooth turf at the side, on to which they turned, and cantered along easily for mile after mile. Every now and then Bell burst forth with some fierce expletive, as if he could not contain his rage; and they gathered that at times it was against himself, at others against Rockley. As fierce a rage, too, burned in Linnell's breast, compounded of bitter hatred, jealousy, and misery. He could not talk to Mellersh, many of whose remarks fell upon unheeding ears, while Linnell asked himself why he was doing all this to save from misery and shame a woman who did not deserve his sympathy.