The whimsical plan fixed in our minds, we began at once to conceive a keener rest for our affairs. Notwithstanding the urgency of our travelling, we had not exchanged the Duke's horses at any of the posting-houses we had passed. Poverty had taught us a fine economic prudence. Whatever we might gain in speed we should lose in momentary value, for his Grace's animals were an admirable pair, on which the best part of our fortune depended at Bristol. The continuous strain was already telling on them, however, and they flagged a good deal during the day. The evening had already come when we approached our destination. Among the country lanes in the twilight it called for all Cynthia's intimate knowledge of the neighbourhood to enable us to pursue the direct path to her father's house. The moon was showing over the trees, and we were within a mile of the place, according to madam's account, when we were startled by a disconcerting incident. A sudden clatter of horses' hoofs arose in the lane. From whence they came we could not tell; but before we had time to think much about them, a horseman was riding beside us, with a particularly sinister-looking pistol presented at our faces. My poor little madam nestled to me in a great deal of terror; but for my own part I must confess that I was more annoyed than daunted by such an unwarrantable intrusion. "My dear fellow," I protested, "you are but wasting your time; and you are wasting ours too, which just now I am inclined to think is the more valuable. We have not a guinea in the world. Had we one we should be only too happy to present it to you." The highwayman laughed in a familiar voice. "Why," says he, putting a pair of mischievous eyes into the chaise, "is it not my friend, Lord What's-his-name?" "My love," says I to the trembling Cynthia, "here is your papa." "Of course," says the highwayman, "you mean the Duke of Thing-em-bob." "To be sure I do," says I. "We are very well met, I think." By this our chaise had stopped, and Mr. Sadler had pulled his horse up too. I was not at all displeased by this interruption, for in any circumstances the sight of this merry, cheerful fellow was welcome. He was one of those rare persons whose voice alone had the power to charm. He was a genial rogue indeed; an engaging spirit whom to meet was to ask to dinner. We were already the better for his society. Therefore, as we had but a mile to go to the Duke's house--Hurley Place was the name of it--I proposed that we should carry him along with us, and enjoy his company at dinner. Mr. Sadler was nothing loth.