"By George! they've bolted!" he said, in his quiet way.

"What?" asked Sir Stephen, as he, too, came out. The carriage was
tearing down the hill towards them in the moonlight, and Stafford saw
that the horses were rushing along with lowered heads and that the
driver had lost all control of them.

As they came towards the two men, Stafford set off running towards
them. Sir Stephen called him; Stafford took no heed, and as the horses
came up to him he sprang at the head of the nearer one. There was a
scramble, a scuffing of hoofs, and a loud, shrill shriek from the
interior of the carriage; then the horses were forced on to their
haunches, and Stafford scrambled to his feet from the road into which
he had been hustled.

The driver jumped down and ran to the horses' heads, the carriage door
was flung open and the gentleman of the inn leapt out. Leapt out almost
on to Sir Stephen, who ran up breathless with apprehension on
Stafford's account. The two men stood and looked at each other in the
moonlight, at first with a confused and bewildered gaze, then Sir
Stephen started back with a cry, a strange cry, which brought Stafford
to his side.

At the same moment, the girl he had seen in the sitting-room at the
inn, slipped out of the carriage.

"Are we safe?" she asked faintly. "How did we stop? Who--"

She stopped abruptly, and both she and Stafford stared at the two men
who were standing confronting each other. Sir Stephen was as white as a
ghost, and there was a look of absolute terror in his dark eyes. On the
face of the other man was an enigmatical smile, which was more bitter
than a sneer.

"You are all right?" said Stafford; "but I am afraid you were very much
frightened!"

The girl turned to him. "You!" she said, recognising him. "Did you stop
them?"

"Yes; it was easy: they had had almost enough," he said.

While they were speaking, the two elder men drew apart as if
instinctively.

"_You_, Falconer?" murmured Sir Stephen, with ashy lips.

"Yes," assented the other, drily; "yes, I am here right enough. Which
is it to be--friend or foe?"

Sir Stephen stood gnawing his lip for a moment, then he turned to
Stafford.

"Stafford, this--most extraordinary--this is an old friend of mine.
Falconer, this is my boy, my son Stafford!"

CHAPTER X.

"A very old friend of your father!" said Mr. Falconer, and his keen
eyes looked into Stafford's as he held out his hand. Then he turned to
Sir Stephen, who