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onger. I'm quite safe now and all I have to do is to wait for the coach. Thank you kindly for coming with me." "Ye're quite welcome, miss. I don't know as I can be of more sarvice, so I'll get back to Twitenham. I wish 'ee a pleasant journey to London." Lavinia again thanked him, Stephen departed and Lavinia prepared herself to exercise what patience she possessed. And well she needed patience for it was past eight and quite dark before the coach appeared at little more than a walking pace. Then the horses had to be changed, the coachman roundly anathematising the sinning jibber as the brute was led in disgrace to the stables; the passengers descended to refresh themselves and so nearly another hour was wasted. At last all was ready. Lavinia had booked an inside place and found that her only fellow passenger was a gouty old gentleman who had been taking the waters at Bath. The outside passengers were but few, a woman and a couple of men. Hounslow was left behind and in due time they entered the road across Smallbury Green, beyond which was Brentford. The travelling was very bad and the coach on its leather hangings swung about in all directions. The conversation--if conversation it could be called--consisted of fragmentary ejaculations of mingled pain and annoyance from the old gentleman when his gouty foot was jerked against some part of the coach. They had not passed over the Green when the clatter of a galloping horse was heard and almost immediately the coach was pulled up. "Body o' me," cried the old gentleman in dismay. "What's happened?" He had an answer in a very few seconds. A big pistol, its barrel gleaming in the moonlight, was thrust through the coach window and behind the pistol was a masked horseman. "A thousand apologies for putting your lordship to such inconvenience," growled the highwayman with affected humility. "I'm sure your lordship has too much sense not to perceive the force of an argument which you will own is entirely on my side." And he advanced the muzzle of the pistol a little nearer the head of the old gentleman and then came an unpleasant click. "What d'ye want, you scoundrel?" stammered the victim. "Nay, a little more politeness, if you please. I simply want your watch and chain, the rings on your fingers and any money you may chance to have about you--gold in preference. Permit me to add that if you don't turn out your pockets before I count ten I shall put a bulle
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