But, when he reasoned thus, it seemed as if Claire's pure, sad face looked up into his reproachfully, and the thoughts her gentle loving eyes engendered made him press his horse's flanks, and send him along faster as he said to himself: "It is a mystery. I cannot understand it; and were she everything that is bad, I should be compelled to fight for her and try to save her to the end." Mile after mile was passed, and though the dull thudding of their horses' hoofs upon the soft turf gave them opportunities for hearing the rattle of wheels and the trampling on the rough road, no sound greeted their ears. "We shall never catch them, gentlemen, like this," cried Bell at last. "Curse the horses! Push on. If we kill the poor brutes we must overtake that chaise." "Forward then," said Mellersh eagerly, for there was that in the young man's voice that cleared away the last shadow of doubt and suspicion. They had been on the grass waste beside the road for quite five miles when, all at once, the way seemed to narrow; and they were about to turn on to the road, but Linnell drew rein suddenly. "Stop!" he cried. "Listen!" There was no doubt about it. As soon as they drew up, with their mounts breathing hard, and snorting or champing their bits, there came on the night air the _beat, beat_ of trotting horses, and the rattle of wheels. "There," cried Mellersh, "that settles it. Forward, again!" The horses seemed almost to divine that they had only to put on a final spurt and finish their task, for they went off at a free gallop, and before long there was the rattle of the wheels plainly heard, though for the most part it was drowned by the sound of the trampling hoofs, for the pursuers were now upon the hard, chalky road. A quarter of an hour's hard riding and they were well in view, in spite of the darkness of the night and the cloud of dust churned up by the team in the chaise. It was evident that the postboys were being urged to do their best; and as they had put their wretched horses to a gallop, the pursuers could see the chaise sway from side to side when the wheels jolted in and out of the ruts worn in the neglected road. Had any doubt remained as to the occupants of the chaise, they would soon have been at an end; for, as Linnell pushed on taking one side, and Mellersh the other, Rockley's voice could be heard shouting from the front of the chaise, and bidding the postboys whip and spur. It was the work of minutes, then of moments, when Linnell, who was now leading in a break-neck gallop, yelled to the postboys to stop. "Go on, you scoundrels! Gallop!" roared Rockley from the front window. "Go on, or I fire."