But he broke off in horror, for there flashed past him, as silent as the wind and swifter, a dark, bent figure, with flying cloak, under which, as the moonlight struck him, there whirled a web of glittering tissue whereon he seemed to ride. That uncanny tinkling floated back from this strange vision, confirming to the ear what otherwise might have appeared a mere trick of the vision. As for Sir Isaac and his band, the distant bell had early brought them to a wondering stand; and now, as this rushing phantom--trilling--trilling--trilling--swept down on a living moonbeam, with one accord they put spurs to their steeds, and with cries of horror fled in all directions. "Forward!" cried Phoebe, exultantly. "Why, what now!" she exclaimed, as she saw her lover still sitting petrified with fear. "How now, my knight! Why sit you here amazed? Is not the way clear? Come--follow--follow!" and she started forward on a trot. But her lover did not move, and she was obliged to turn back. Laying her hand on his arm: "Why, what ails thee, dear heart?" she asked. "The spectre--the ghostly steed!" he stammered. "Oh--oh!" laughed Phoebe. "Why, this was but some venturous bicyclist on his wheel!" "A bicyclist!" exclaimed Sir Guy. "Can you thus give a name to this black phantom, Mary?" "'Tis naught, dear Guy, believe me!" she said. Then, in pleading tones, she continued: "Didst not agree to trust thy lady, dear?" The young knight passed his hand over his eyes and straightened himself resolutely in his saddle. "E'en to the death, love. Lead on! I shall not falter!" They trotted forward through a now silent street to the bridge, and soon found themselves enveloped in the darkness and assailed by the countless odors of London Bridge. From time to time they crossed a path of moonlight, and here Phoebe would smile into the eyes of her still much-puzzled lover and murmur words of encouragement. Before they reached Southwark, there rang out behind them the sound of hoofs upon the stones of the bridge. "Can these be your father's minions, think you?" said Sir Guy. "Nay!" Phoebe exclaimed. "Rest assured, they were scattered too far to dog our steps again to-night." They emerged some moments later on the Southwark side and saw the pillory towering ahead of them. "How far shall we fare to-night, love?" asked the knight. "To Newington on horseback," Phoebe replied, "and then--well, then shalt thou see more faring." There was a loud cry from the bridge, startling the pair from their fancied security. "There they ride! The watch, ho! Stop the traitor! Stop him! For the Queen! For the Queen!" "God help us!" cried Phoebe. "'Tis the two yeomen of the Peacock Inn!" With one accord the pair clapped spurs to their horses' sides and resumed once more the flight which they had thought concluded. CHAPTER XVII REBECCA'S TRUMP CARD