to take careful aim. Desmond felt the wind of the bullet as
it whizzed past him. Next moment he leaned slightly sidewise, and, never
loosening his hold on the reins with his left hand, he brought the
weighty butt of his whip with a rapid cut, half sidewise, half downwards,
upon the horseman's head. The man with a cry swerved on the saddle;
almost before Desmond could recover his balance he was amazed to see the
horse dash suddenly to the right, spring across the ditch, and gallop at
full speed across the heath.

But he had no time at the moment to speculate on this very easy victory.
The horses, alarmed by the pistol shot, were plunging madly, dragging the
vehicle perilously near to the ditch on the left hand. Then Desmond's
familiarity with animals, gained at so much cost to himself on his
brother's farm, bore good fruit. He spoke to the horses soothingly,
managed them with infinite tact, and coaxed them into submission. Then he
let them have their heads, and they galloped on at speed, pausing only
when they reached the turnpike going into Brentford. They were then in a
bath of foam; their flanks heaving like to burst.

Learning from the turnpike man that he could obtain a change of horses at
the "Bull" inn, Desmond drove there, and was soon upon his way again.

While the change was being made, he obtained from the lady the address in
Soho Square where she was staying. The new horses were fresh; the
carriage rattled through Gunnersbury, past the turnpike at Hammersmith
and through Kensington, and soon after nine o'clock Desmond had the
satisfaction of pulling up at the door of Sheriff Soames' mansion in Soho
Square.

The door was already open, the rattle of wheels having brought lackeys
with lighted torches to welcome the belated travelers. Torches flamed in
the cressets on both sides of the entrance. The hall was filled with
servants and members of the household, and in the bustle that ensued when
the ladies in their brocades and hoops had entered the house, Desmond saw
an opportunity of slipping away. He felt that it was perhaps a little
ungracious to go without a word to the ladies; but he was tired; he was
unaccustomed to town society, and the service he had been able to render
seemed to him so slight that he was modestly eager to efface himself.
Leaving the carriage in the hands of one of the lackeys, with a few words
of explanation, he hastened on towards Holborn and the city.

Chapter 7: In which Co