. The
woman sprang swiftly in and motioned Spring to stand by the wheel.

"There is your fifty pounds," she said, handing him a paper. "You were
a fool not to turn it into a hundred when you had the chance. I've done
with you now."

"But where am I to go?" asked the prize-fighter, gazing around him at
the winding lanes.

"To the devil!" said she. "Drive on, Johnson!"

The phaeton whirled down the road and vanished round a curve. Tom Spring
was alone.

Everywhere over the countryside he heard shoutings and whistlings. It
was clear that so long as she escaped the indignity of sharing his fate
his employer was perfectly indifferent as to whether he got into trouble
or not. Tom Spring began to feel indifferent himself. He was weary
to death, his head was aching from the blows and falls which he had
received, and his feelings were raw from the treatment which he had
undergone. He walked slowly some few yards down the lane, but had no
idea which way to turn to reach Tunbridge Wells. In the distance he
heard the baying of dogs, and he guessed that they were being set upon
his track. In that case he could not hope to escape them, and might just
as well await them where he was. He picked out a heavy stake from the
hedge, and he sat down moodily waiting, in a very dangerous temper, for
what might befall him.

But it was a friend and not a foe who came first into sight. Round the
corner of the lane flew a small dog-cart, with a fast-trotting chestnut
cob between the shafts. In it was seated the rubicund landlord of the
Royal Oak, his whip going, his face continually flying round to glance
behind him.

"Jump in, Mr. Spring jump in!" he cried, as he reined up. "They're all
coming, dogs and men! Come on! Now, hud up, Ginger!" Not another word
did he say until two miles of lanes had been left behind them at racing
speed and they were back in safety upon the Brighton road. Then he let
the reins hang loose on the pony's back, and he slapped Tom Spring with
his fat hand upon the shoulder.

"Splendid!" he cried, his great red face shining with ecstasy. "Oh,
Lord! but it was beautiful!"

"What!" cried Spring. "You saw the fight?"

"Every round of it! By George! to think that I should have lived to have
had such a fight all to myself! Oh, but it was grand," he cried, in a
frenzy of delight, "to see his lordship go down like a pithed ox and
her ladyship clapping her hands behind the bush! I guessed there was
something in the wi