oubt in the world he was
doing) to clap the Bow Street runners on my trail, and cover England
with handbills, each dangerous as a loaded musket, convinced me for the
first time that the affair was no less serious than death. I believe it
came to a near touch whether I should not turn the horses' heads at the
next stage and make directly for the coast. But I was now in the
position of a man who should have thrown his gage into the den of lions;
or, better still, like one who should have quarrelled overnight under
the influence of wine, and now, at daylight, in a cold winter's morning,
and humbly sober, must make good his words. It is not that I thought any
the less, or any the less warmly, of Flora. But, as I smoked a grim
segar that morning in a corner of the chaise, no doubt I considered, in
the first place, that the letter-post had been invented, and admitted
privately to myself, in the second, that it would have been highly
possible to write her on a piece of paper, seal it, and send it skimming
by the mail, instead of going personally into these egregious dangers,
and through a country that I beheld crowded with gibbets and Bow Street
officers. As for Sim and Candlish, I doubt if they crossed my mind.

At the "Green Dragon" Rowley was waiting on the doorsteps with the
luggage, and really was bursting with unpalatable conversation.

"Who do you think we've 'ad 'ere, sir?" he began breathlessly, as the
chaise drove off. "Red Breasts"; and he nodded his head portentously.

"Red Breasts?" I repeated, for I stupidly did not understand at the
moment an expression I had often heard.

"Ah!" said he. "Red weskits. Runners. Bow Street runners. Two on 'em,
and one was Lavender himself! I hear the other say quite plain, 'Now,
Mr. Lavender, _if_ you're ready.' They was breakfasting as nigh me as I
am to that post-boy. They're all right; they ain't after us. It's a
forger; and I didn't send them off on a false scent--O no! I thought
there was no use in having them over our way; so I give them 'very
valuable information,' Mr. Lavender said, and tipped me a tizzy for
myself; and they're off to Luton. They showed me the 'andcuffs, too--the
other one did--and he clicked the dratted things on my wrist; and I tell
you I believe I nearly went off in a swound! There's something so
beastly in the feel of them! Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne," he added,
with one of his delicious changes from the character of the confidential
schoolboy in