fficers to identify some one
of our scattered gang of whom they were in pursuit. It could not be the
doctor--the runner could discover him without assistance from anybody.
Why might it not be me?

I began to think whether it would be best to trust boldly in my
disguise, and my lucky position outside the coach, or whether I should
abandon my fellow-passengers immediately. It was not easy to settle at
once which course was the safest--so I tried the effect of looking at my
two alternatives from another point of view. Should I risk everything,
and go on resolutely to Crickgelly, on the chance of discovering that
Alicia and Miss Giles were one and the same person--or should I give up
on the spot the only prospect of finding my lost mistress, and direct my
attention entirely to the business of looking after my own safety?

As the latter alternative practically resolved itself into the simple
question of whether I should act like a man who was in love, or like a
man who was not, my natural instincts settled the difficulty in no time.
I boldly imitated the example of my fellow-passengers, and went in to
dinner, determined to go on afterward to Crickgelly, though all Bow
Street should be following at my heels.

CHAPTER XIII.

SECURE as I tried to feel in my change of costume, my cropped hair, and
my whiskerless cheeks, I kept well away from the coach-window, when the
dinner at the inn was over and the passengers were called to take their
places again. Thus far--thanks to the strength of my grasp on his
neck, which had left him too weak to be an outside passenger--Screw had
certainly not seen me; and, if I played my cards properly, there was no
reason why he should see me before we got to our destination.

Throughout the rest of the journey I observed the strictest caution, and
fortune seconded my efforts. It was dark when we got to Shrewsbury. On
leaving the coach I was enabled, under cover of the night, to keep a
sharp watch on the proceedings of Screw and his Bow Street ally. They
did not put up at the hotel, but walked away to a public house. There,
my clerical character obliged me to leave them at the door.

I returned to the hotel, to make inquiries about conveyances.

The answers informed me that Crickgelly was a little fishing-village,
and that there was no coach direct to it, but that two coaches running
to two small Welsh towns situated at nearly equal distances from my
destination, on either side of it, w