The man on the wheeler half turned in his saddle and made as if to pull up, but there was the flash of a pistol, the quick report, and as a bullet whistled over his head, the postboy uttered a cry of fear, and bent down till his face almost touched the horse's mane, while his companion on the leader did the same, and they whipped and spurred their jaded horses frantically. "Stop!" shouted Linnell again. "Stop!" "Go on! Gallop!" roared Rockley, "or I'll blow out your brains." The men crouched lower. Their horses tore on; the chaise leaped and rocked and seemed about to go over, and all was rush and excitement, noise and dust. Linnell was well abreast of the chaise door now, and pushing on to get to the postboy who rode the leader, when the glass on his side was dashed down, and, pistol-in-hand, Rockley leaned out. "Back!" he said hoarsely, "or I fire." "You scoundrel!" roared Linnell. "Cowardly dog! but you are caught." "Stop, or I fire," shouted Rockley again, fuming with rage and vexation at being overtaken in the hour of his triumph. "Fire if you dare!" cried Linnell excitedly, as he pressed on. _Crack_! There was a second flash and report, and the horse Linnell rode made a spring forward as if it had been hit. The thought flashed across Linnell's brain that in another few moments the brave beast he bestrode would stagger and fall beneath him, and that then the cowardly scoundrel who had fired would escape with the woman he was ready to give his life to save. A curious mist seemed to float before his eyes, the hot blood of rage to surge into his brain, lights danced before him, and for the moment he felt hardly accountable for his actions. All he knew was that he was abreast of the wheeler, with the man whipping and spurring with all his might; that the horses were snorting and tearing along in a wild race, and that Rockley was leaning out of the window yelling to the men to gallop or he would fire again. Linnell had a misty notion Mellersh was somewhere on the other side, and that Bell was galloping behind, but he did not call to them for help. He did not even see that Mellersh was pushing forward and had reached out to catch the off-leader's rein. All he did realise was that Claire Denville, the woman he loved, was in peril; that her whole future depended upon him; and that he must save her at any cost. He was galloping now a little in advance of the postboy. Their knees had touched for an instant; then his leg was in front, and he was leaning forward. "Touch that rein, and I fire," roared Rockley. Then there was once more a flash cutting the darkness; and as the bullet from Rockley's pistol sped on its errand, the horse made one plunge forward, and then pitched upon its head. There was a tremendous crash of breaking glass and woodwork, and beside the road the wreck of a chaise with two horses down, and the leaders tangled in their harness and kicking furiously till they had broken free. Volume Two, Chapter XXVII.