you p. 56might easily be pistoling one of your own folk, not knowing.” p. 56 “Have no fear, sir, I’ve had the handling of a pistol ere this,” I assured him. But, smiling that odd smile of his, he answered nothing. Now it seemed that Mr. Bradbury’s coachboy knew the road well—the gentleman having travelled over it often before; for, without direction from his master he drove on as steadily through the dark as the roughness of the way and the weariness of the horses would allow. Ay, and the wildness of the night—the great wind from the sea; we were travelling near to the coast; once when Mr. Bradbury let down the glass to peer out, the salt tang and the reek of mud flats was borne in on the chill air. I realised that Mr. Bradbury’s apprehension grew with the darkness and the storm. When he drew up the glass and sat down, he did not lie back on his cushions or muffle his shawl about his ears; he leaned towards the window, staring forth into the dark, seeming, too, by his impatient wave of his hand when I would have spoken, to be listening intently. I strained my ears to hear, but for the time heard nothing save the rumble of wheels, and the rushing of the wind; afar a thunderous sound as the beating of the sea, no more, until the wind was cut from us in a dip of the road, as if we p. 57drove among great trees, or between high hedgerows; then it seemed I heard the pounding of hoofs upon the road, as if the riders were at no great distance in the rear. The sound was indistinguishable, when presently we swept out into the open country; and the wind had its way with us once more. As we drove on apace, Mr. Bradbury remained intent by the window; committing myself to Providence and Mr. Bradbury, I lay back on my cushions. Indeed, I attached little import to the sounds; I was dull with weariness and hunger; I had been travelling for nigh two days. I had spent the worst of bad nights through the suffocation of a deep feather bed at the inn in which we had lodged for the night. I tell you the desire for sleep prevailed over uneasiness at the loneliness of our way and sounds of riders through the night; or my excitement at the thought of presentation to my kinsfolk. I lay back; pulled my greatcoat about me, and slept. From time to time, the jolting of the coach, as the wheels dipped in the ruts or struck on stones, would rouse me; always I saw dully that Mr. Bradbury sat stiffly by the window, and that his left hand strayed towards the case of pistols open on the seat beside him. p. 57 I was awakened by the crash and
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