"'Tis a plaguey rough night," he shouted over the wind, clapping his hat tighter and leaning close to his grey's warm slim neck. They were crossing Dry Tree Common where Blue Jenkins was swinging in a shameful cradle, and Clare shouted he could see the lights of a chaise in front. "That's Ripple for a hundred," cried Charles spurring on his horse, "gadslife, what a speed they are making. Hurry, Tony, hurry." A dazzling flash of lightning seared the sky long enough to illuminate the ghastly figure on the gallows. Clare's chestnut mare shied violently and threw her rider head foremost into a large clump of gorse. It was a matter of some difficulty to catch the frightened animal, but Charles by mere determination succeeded in doing so, for all the night was now black before the rising of the moon. By this mishap, Clare was in much the same state of prickles as the Widow, without the help of deft-fingered Susan. "What the plague made you do that?" said Charles fretfully. They had lost five valuable minutes through the behaviour of the mare. Tony laughed with great good humour. When they reached the foot of Long Hill, they could see the lights of the chaise once again. It was finding the heavy pull very difficult. The rain was pouring down the ditches on either side with a gurgling sound, heard all the more clearly, because in the shelter of the slope the wind was quiet. Just before the summit, the carriage stopped and a bullet sang between Clare and Lovely who were now a bare twenty yards behind. Mr. Ripple believed in the advantage of an offensive campaign. "Stop! stop!" shouted Charles, "we are not highwaymen." The Beau recognized the voice, and in accents wherein could be detected the faintest note of relief said: "Charles--Mr. Lovely! and why, may I inquire, are you abroad on such an unpleasant night?" "Why, sir," called out Charles, "what have you been about? There's a dead man lying in the road." "Good G----!" said Mr. Ripple, "a dead man?" "Bring a lamp," called Clare. Pridgeon descended from the box and, having tied the horses to a withered fir-tree, snatched one of the lamps from its socket. As he came along, Charles observed by the wavering light primroses in flower. "Surely, surely," said the Beau, "I cannot have killed this man." "N! No!" cried Clare who was kneeling beside the body. "He has been dead some time. Z----ds! 'Tis the little Major." "The little Major?" echoed Ripple sharply. "So 'tis! So 'tis!" "All alone in the storm," said Charles in a low voice. "It may have been highwaymen," said Ripple. "So it may, so it may," Clare agreed. "And it may have been Vernon," said Charles, "d--n him." "Charles," said the Beau, "I owe you an apology. I have been obstinate. This should never have been allowed to happen." Charles grasped his hand in the darkness. After all, Mr. Ripple was not in his kingdom and they were all levelled by the presence of Death. "We cannot leave the body here," said Tony.