hen, sir," said Wilton, grasping the Duke's hand, "this is
your only chance for safety. That rascally Messenger has followed us
to the door, and doubtless if there be any magistrates in the
neighbourhood, or constables left in the place, we shall have them
down upon us in ten minutes."
"Come with me, my lord, come with me!" cried the landlord, bursting
into energy in a moment. "I know who you are well enough. But they
shan't catch you here, I warrant you. Come into the stable: there's
not a minute to be lost; for there's old Sir John Bulrush, and Parson
Jeffreys, who's a magistrate too, drinking away up at the rectory
till the people come back from Plessis's house." Berwick lingered
not; but taking a quick leave of Lady Laura, and shaking Wilton's
hand, he followed the landlord from the room. Laura and Wilton stood
silent for a minute or two, listening to every sound, and calculating
how long it might be before the horse was saddled and the Duke upon
his way. Before they imagined it possible, however, the landlord
returned, saying, in a low voice, but with an air of joyful triumph,
"He is gone; and if they were after him this minute, the way through
my garden gives him the start by half a mile."
"And now, landlord," said Wilton, "send off some one on horseback to
get us a conveyance from Stroud to carry this young lady on the way
to London. I suppose such a thing is not to be procured here."
"That there is not," replied the landlord; "and unless I send your
horse, sir, or the Messenger's, or the Captain's, I have none to go."
"Send mine, then, send mine!" replied Wilton. "But here comes Captain
Byerly himself, bringing us news, doubtless."
"No news," answered Byerly, "except that the rascal went up the
street, and I followed him to the door of the parsonage. Your
parson's a magistrate--isn't he, Wicks?"
The landlord gave a nod; and Byerly continued, "By Jove, I'll be off
then, for I'm not fond of magistrates, and he'll be down here soon."
"You had better bid them bring down a chaise for the gentleman and
lady from Stroud," said the landlord. "That will save me from sending
some one on the gentleman's horse."
"No, no, landlord, no, no!" answered Byerly, "you are not up to a
stratagem. Send your ostler with me on Mr. Brown's horse. We'll go
clattering along the street like the devil, if we can but get off
before the justices come down, and they'll take it into their wise
noddles that one of us is the gentleman who has just gone. Come,
Wicks, there