She drew back in a pained way, and he followed her. "I'm pettish and impatient, that's all," he said smiling; and, closing the door after her, he hurriedly put on a cloak and travelling cap, muffling his face well; and then going softly out, and turning from the main street, he was soon after in the lane that led down by Thickens's house and the mill. "At last!" said a voice from the hedge-side, just beyond where the last oil lamp shed a few dim rays across the road. "I thought you were never coming." "Don't talk. Have you everything ready?" "Yes, everything. It is only a cart, but it will take you easily." "And are you sure of the road?" "Certain. I've done it twice so as to be sure." "Good horse?" "Capital. We can get over the twenty miles in three hours, and catch the York coach easily by twelve. It does not pass before then." "Mind, Stephen, I'm trusting you in this. If you fail me--" "If I fail you! Bah! Did I ever fail you?" "No, never." "Then don't talk like that. You've failed me pretty often, all the same. Going?" "Yes; I must get back." "What's that--the Castor coach?" "Yes," said Hallam, starting. "It's early." "Don't be longer than you can help; but, I say, have you plenty of money for the journey? I've only a guinea or two left." "I have enough," said Hallam grimly; and bidding his companion wait three hours, and if he did not come then to go back and return the next night, Hallam turned to hurry back to the town. It was intensely dark as he approached the mill, where the stream was gurgling and plashing over the waste-water shoot. In the distance there was the oil lamp glimmering, and a light or two shone in the scattered cottages, but there was none at Thickens's as Hallam passed. There was a space of about a hundred yards between Thickens's house and the next cottage, and Hallam had about half traversed this when he heard a step that seemed familiar coming, and his doubt was put an end to by a voice exclaiming, "Mind! Take care!" Was it fate that had put this in his way? He asked himself this as, like lightning, the thought struck him that Bayle had just come off the coach--he the sharer in the knowledge of his iniquity. A sharp struggle, and close at hand there was the bridge and the flowing river. It might have been an accident. But even then there was Thickens. What if he closed with him, and--disguised as he was, Bayle could never know--Bayle--the bearer of that heavy sum of money! He intended flight that night; was it fate, he asked himself again, that had thrown this in his way? And as the thoughts flashed through his brain, they encountered roughly upon the path, and Hallam's hand touched the thick pocket-book in Bayle's breast.