"Well, sir?"

"I love the unexpected! I want you, Betty, but I'd have you come a little unwilling to my embrace. Give me this pretty hand, suffer me to--what, no?--excellent! Presently, here in the dark, with unbridled tempest rioting about us, I shall kiss your lips and the more you struggle in my arms the sweeter I shall find you--so, dearest Bet, struggle and strive your best----"

But at this moment the coach slowed down, came to a standstill and a hand knocked at the window. Whispering fierce curses Mr. Dalroyd lowered it.

"Sir," said a voice humbly, "these bye-roads be evil going and in this dark hard to follow--shall we light the lamps?"

"Aye--if you must--light one--the off one."

Thus after some little delay the lamp was lighted and the coach lurched forward again. My lady sighed to find herself no longer in utter darkness, though the light was faint--scarcely more than a glow. Then dread seized her, for by this glow she saw her captor's eyes and, reading his sure and merciless purpose there, she grew suddenly and terribly afraid of him at last. Fronting that look she strove to hide her shame and terror but he, wise in the ways of proud and frightened beauty, laughed softly and leaned towards her. And in that moment, looking beyond him, she saw over his shoulder that which strung every quivering nerve of her, for in a sling, on Mr. Dalroyd's side of the coach, hung his travelling pistols; and now in her terror the one ambition of her life became narrowed down to this--to grasp sure fingers round the silver-mounted b.u.t.t of one of these weapons.

"Betty," said he, "my beautiful Betty, which is it to be?"

"Pray sir," said she, striving to speak lightly, "pray be more explicit."

"Doth proud loveliness yield at last?" he questioned softly, "or shall it be forced?" Even as he spoke his arms were about her; for a moment she struggled wildly, then, as he crushed her to him, still struggling against his contact, she yielded suddenly and, bearing him backward, her white hand flashed out and, laughing hysterically, she wrenched herself away from him.

"Sir," she panted, "O dear sir, you love surprises, you tell me--look, look at this and beg your life of me!"

His arms fell from her and slowly, sullenly, he recoiled, watching her beneath drooping lids.

"Ah, Betty!" he sighed, "what an adorable woman you are!"

"Why then sir," said she a little tremulously but with hand and eyes steady, "you will obey me."

"'Twill be my joy, sweet Bet," he answered softly, "aye faith, my joy--when I have conquered thee----"

"Conquered?" she cried and gnashed white teeth. "No man shall do that--you least of----"

A hoa.r.s.e command from the road in front, followed almost immediately by two pistol shots in rapid succession, and, lurching towards the hedge, the coach came to an abrupt standstill, ensued the stamp of horses, cries, fierce imprecations, the sounds of desperate struggling and a heavy fall. In an instant Mr. Dalroyd had s.n.a.t.c.hed his other pistol, had jerked down the window and thrust out head and arms.

"What now?" he cried. "What the devil----" The words ended in a choking gasp, for the pistol was twisted from his hold and a strong hand was upon his throat; then the door was wrenched open and himself dragged into the road there to be caught and crushed in arms of steel while his hands were drawn swiftly behind him and dexterously trussed together, all in a moment.

"You!" he cried, staring into the pale, serene face of his captor and struggling against his bonds. "G.o.d, but you shall repent this outrage, I swear you----"

"The gag, Sergeant!"

"Here, sir!" And Mr. Dalroyd's vicious threats were choked to sudden silence.

"His ankles, Sergeant!"

"All secure, your honour!"

"Then mount and take him before you---so! Up with him--heave!"

Next moment Mr. Dalroyd lay bound, gagged and helpless across the withers of the Sergeant's horse.

"What's come of the coachman, Zebedee?"

"I' the ditch, sir."

"Hurt?"

"Lord love ye, just a rap o' the n.o.b, sir."

It was now that my lady, crouched in the darkest corner of the chaise, fancied she heard shouts above the raving of the wind and, grasping the pistol in trembling fingers, ventured to look out. And thus she saw a face, pallid in the flickering light of the solitary lantern, a face streaked with mud and sweat, fierce-eyed and grim of mouth. She caught but a momentary glimpse as he swung to horse but, reading aright the determined purpose of that haggard face, she cried aloud and sprang out into the road, calling on his name.

"John--O John!" But her voice was lost in the rushing wind, and the Major, spurring his spirited horse, plunged into the dark, beyond the feeble light of the lamp, and was swallowed up in the whirling darkness.

Deafened and half-dazed by the buffeting wind and the suddenness of it all, she stood awhile, then, squaring her dimpled chin, set about freeing one of the horses.

CHAPTER XLII

WHICH DESCRIBES A DUEL

Colonel Lord George Cleeve, dozing over a bottle beside the hearth, stirred at the heavy tread of feet, unclosed slumberous eyes at the sudden opening of the door, glanced round sleepily, stared and sprang to his feet, broad awake in a moment, to see the Major and Sergeant Zebedee, wind-blown and mud-splashed, tramp heavily in bearing between them a shapeless bundle of sodden clothes and finery the which, propped upright in a chair, resolved itself into a human being, gagged and bound hand and foot.

"Jack!" he gasped, his eyes rolling. "Why, Jack--good Lord!" After which, finding no more to say he sank back into his armchair and swore feebly.

"Off with the gag, Sergeant," said the Major serenely as he laid by his own mud-spattered hat and riding-coat. The Sergeant obeyed; and now beholding the prisoner's pale, contorted features, the Colonel sprang to his feet again.

"Refuse me!" he gasped. "What the--Mr. Dalroyd!"

"Or Captain Effingham!" said the Major. "Loose his cravat and shirt, Sergeant, and let us be sure at last." Sergeant Zebedee's big fingers were nimble and the Major, taking one of the silver candlesticks, bent above the helpless man for a long moment; then, setting down the light, he bowed:

"Captain Effingham, I salute you!" said he. "To-night sir, here in this room, I propose that we finish, once and for all, what we left undone ten years ago, 'tis for this purpose I brought you hither, though a little roughly I fear. My Lord Cleeve will oblige me by acting as your second, I think. But first, take some refreshment, I beg. We have ample leisure, so pray compose yourself until you shall have recovered from the regrettable violence I have unavoidably occasioned you. Loose him, Zebedee!"

Freed of his bonds, Mr. Dalroyd stretched himself, re-settled his damp and rumpled garments, and lounged back in his chair.

"Sir," said he, viewing the Major with eyes that glittered between languid-drooping lids, "though my--enforced presence here runs counter to certain determined purposes of mine, yet I am so much of a philosopher as to recognise in this the hand of Fate and to find therein a very real satisfaction, for I have long been possessed of a most earnest desire to kill you--as indeed I think I should ha' done years ago but for a slip of the foot." The Major bowed:

"May I pour you a gla.s.s of wine, Captain Effingham? he enquired.

"Not now sir, I thank you," answered Mr. Dalroyd, languidly testing the play of right hand and wrist, "afterwards, perhaps!"

"You are without your sword, I perceive sir," said the Major.

"Gad, yes sir!" lisped Mr. Dalroyd, smiling, "in our hurry we left it behind in the coach."

"Still, you will prefer swords, of course?"

"Of course, sir."

"Go, bring the duelling-swords, Sergeant," said the Major and sitting down filled himself a gla.s.s of wine while Mr. Dalroyd gently smoothed and patted wrist and sword-hand with long, white fingers and the Colonel, standing on the hearth, his feet wide apart, stared from one serene, deadly face to the other.

"Ten years, sir, is a fair span of life," said Mr. Dalroyd musingly, "and in that time Fortune hath been kind to you, 'twould seem. You have here a n.o.ble heritage to--ah--leave behind you to some equally fortunate wight!" Here he turned to glance at the wicked-looking weapons Sergeant Zebedee had laid upon the table. "When you have finished your wine, sir, I will play Providence to that fortunate wight, whoever he may be, and put him in possession of his heritage as soon as possible." The Major bowed, emptied his gla.s.s and rising, proceeded to remove coat and waistcoat and, with the Sergeant's aid, to draw off his long riding-boots and rolled back snowy shirt from his broad chest while Mr. Dalroyd, having kicked off his buckled shoes, did the same.