The Castle Inn - Page 109/559

'His wife, but she is to Marshfield, nursing her sister,' answered one.

'But give him his guinea, Sir George. 'Twill save time maybe.' Soane flung it to him. 'There!' he said. 'Now speak!' 'That'sh better,' the man muttered. 'That's talking! Now I'll tell you.

You go back to Devizes Corner--corner of the road to De-vizes--you

understand? There was a car--car--carriage there without lights an hour

back. It was waiting under the hedge. I saw it, and I--I know

what's what!' Sir George flung a guinea to the guard, and wheeled his horse about. In

the act of turning his eye fell on the lawyer's steed, which, chosen for

sobriety rather than staying powers, was on the point of foundering.

'Get another,' he cried, 'and follow!' Mr. Fishwick uttered a wail of despair. To be left to follow--to follow

alone, in the dark, through unknown roads, with scarce a clue and on a

strange horse--the prospect might have appalled a hardier soul. He was

saved from it by Sir George's servant, a stolid silent man, who might be

warranted to ride twenty miles without speaking. 'Here, take mine, sir,'

he said. 'I must stop to get a lanthorn; we shall need one now. Do you

go with his honour.' Mr. Fishwick slid down and was hoisted into the other's saddle. By the

time this was done Sir George was almost lost in the gloom eat the

farther end of the street. But anything rather than be left behind. The

lawyer laid on his whip in a way that would have astonished him a few

hours before, and overtook his leader as he emerged from the town. They

rode without speaking until they had retraced their steps to the foot of

the hill, and could discern a little higher on the ascent the turn

for Devizes.

It is possible that Sir George hoped to find the chaise still lurking in

the shelter of the hedge; for as he rode up to the corner he drew a

pistol from his holster, and took his horse by the head. If so, he was

disappointed. The moon had risen high and its cold light disclosed the

whole width of the roadway, leaving no place in which even a dog could

lie hidden. Nor as far as the eye could travel along the pale strip of

road that ran southward was any movement or sign of life.

Sir George dropped from his saddle, and stooping, sought for proof of

the toper's story. He had no difficulty in finding it. There were the

deep narrow ruts which the wheels of a chaise, long stationary, had made

in the turf at the side of the road; and south of them was a plat of

poached ground where the horses had stood and shifted their feet

uneasily. He walked forward, and by the moonlight traced the dusty

indents of the wheels until they exchanged the sward for the hard road.

There they were lost in other tracks, but the inference was plain. The

chaise had gone south to Devizes.