SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 377, 30 April 1910, Page 6

SERIAL STORY

A ROYAL WARD. By PERCY BREBNER. (Published by arrangement with Cassell and Company, Ltd., publishers, »f London and Melbourne, the proprietors of the copyright). CHAPTER XXIV. (continued). The couch came to .a standstill before a wayside cottage. Smoke was rising from a chimney, and an elderly woman came to the door and stood there waiting. The coachman, looking immensely ■big in his heavy coat, the turned-up coil a r hiding the lower part of his face, his hat pulled down so that of the upper only .his eyes were clearly seen, climbed from his box and busied himself with the horses. The footman came and opened the door. "There is a room where my lady can change," he said. "Change!'' Betty exclaimed. 'Tour maid has brought you a dress better for travelling, my lady. I will carry in the luggage. Afterwards, there will be breakfast. 1 '

"Co. my lady," whispered Mary behind her; ''we may find means to send a message back to London,"

There was no chance of doing this, however. The woman was silently obsequious as she showed them to a neat little bedroom, where Betty changed her ball dress for the warm travelling one which Mary had Drought; she proved herself capable also of preparing a simple breakfast; but to all Betty's attempts to obtain her sympathy, or to persuade her by bribes, she shook her head. Either, she could not speak or would not; she cither did not understand Betty's meaning or was purposely ignorant. "It is very evident that we have been trapped, but for all that we will make a good breakfast," .said Betty. "Ac present there is no chance of escape. The coachman keeps an eye on us from the road, and that miserable footman is watching somewhere else. Eat, Mary, our opportunity will come." "I hope I shall''-be allowed something to say about the punishment of these two fellows," Alary returned angrily. "Such scoundrels might probably be bribed, my lady." "The woman here seems proof against it. Xo, whoever is responsible for this trap is too well served for vnat, I fancy." Presently the footman appeared at the door. "It is time we started, my lady. v "Indeed, I think it is time that iwe had arrived at the journey's end," Betty returned.

Tlip coachman hnrt already mounted to his box, and took no notice of them; (lie footman opened the door for t' ,o m to enter, and then got in after them., "Pardon, my lady, but I am only carrying out my instructions," he said, and to do the man justice he looked particularly ill at ease and apologetic. '"The Duchess of Petersham's instruction?" asked Betty. "No, my lady." "We are not going to Richmond?" "Xo. my lady." "And your whole story from beginnincr to end is a lie." "I do not know. I told it to you as it was told to me, but it is untrue that I got it from the Duchess of Petersham." "And where are we going?" 'T do not know, my lady." "Nor the coachman, either, I suppose," sneered Mary. ''l am only a servant, my lady, una I am bound to do as I am told." said the man to Lady Betty. "I hope you ■will not force me to appear worse than you already think of me. I may not tell you the name of my master', but. I l<now he means you no real harm." "Mr. Evertsen is your master," said Betty, "and I have no such faith in his honorable intentions as you have. 1 -" "Indeed, my lady, your fears are unfounded,'' said the man. "You will nresently see my master, but where, it is truth that I do not know. I am only a servant, and I ask your pity." "Yon more likely to receive it if you return to the box and leave us alone," said Mary, who seemed enraged at the insult offered to her mistress than Lady Betty was herself. Mary felt that she was partly the cause of their present position, because she had in the first place believed this man's story. "I am sorry, but I cannot do that. While we travelled at night it was, different, but by day you might signal to some passer-by. My instructions are to prevent your doing so." "Would our promise satisfy you?" asked Mary. "I -do not think my lady would promise." "Certainly I shall answered Betty. "Oh, my lady, don't deign to speak to the man," Mary exclaimed. "If there is any bargaining to be done with the villain, let me do it." Betty smiled at the unpropitious onening of anv request for favors, and remained silent. "What are you paid for this miserable business?" asked Mary. "Such a man as you ought to be open to a bars'in, help on your side, money on ours."

There is tlic coachman," he answer-

"Who apparently does not know where he is going, .according to your story; money ought to Fe useful to him." "He would laugh at the offer, and I ■advise you not to make it. For myself, I am entirely in my master's power; there is no question of money." "A new master surely, since yesterday von were at Petersham House," said Betty.

"Yes, my lady, and one I dare not disobey," the man answered.

"We must make our opportunity later, Mary." .-aid Betty quietly, "i will have no further attempt at bargaining. The man does his duty as he sees ii, and could be less courteous; leave him alone."

ISo the journey became a silent one. They were evidently going deeper ana deeper into the country. Sometimes they travelled rapidly along the main roads, but at times they jolted slowly by side roads, evidently to avoid a town which they would presently see in the distance. They changed horses at remote inns, or horses met them at some corner. Once or twice there was delay and the driver became irritable and angry at once. Apparently he took not the slightest notice of the passengers, he left them entirely to the care of the footman. The man in the carriage might certainly have been less courteous, but he was not carrier. He closed the window when passing through a village, nnd nhen they met the mail coach on its way to London. At an obscure inn they dined, and no chance of sending a message back offered. They rattled on again with fresh horses during the afternoon, and it was quite dusk when they changed horses at a comer. Whoever the master was he was well served.

The man in charge of the horses appeared to know the driver, who got down to talk to him whilst he harnessed the new team.

''They've done a lot of damage in the last three days beyond Exeter?" Betty heard the man say.

"Why so soon?" asked the coachman. "Leaders couldn't keep them in check, I hear." . "The fools! Three days is time enough to ruin everything. There are a couple of regiments on the way alreadv, probably, and everything's ruined*" * "'*■'• "I don't know that," answered the man. "I hear they're very strong the other side of Exeter. They'll be pleased to see " But the coachman laid his hand sharply on his shoulder, and tile. man finished his sentence with a nod. As he mounted to his box the driver signalled to the footman with a jerk of his head, and the man immediately climbed to the box. It was dusk, would be dark very soon; there was little to fear of the passengers attracting notice now. It was safe to leave them alone.

The conversation 'which Lady Betty had overheard had no particular meaning for her, nevertheless it made her thoughtful. The men had mentioned Exeter. Were they travelling towards Exeter, towards her own Devon county? Surely little 'harm could come to her in Devon! She would he safe there if safety were to he found for .her anywhere in the world. Through the whole, country her name was known—yes, and she was loved there. Her father may have been austere, feared rather than liked, hut it was love the people had given to his daughter. If they were going into Devon there would be plenty of opportunity to escape later. "LookI" Mary exclaimed, tuddenly breaking in upon Lady Betty's reflections and pointing towards a thin clump of trees which stood out clearly on rising ground against the skyline. The road, emerging from a belt of wood, swept in a quarter circle across a wide ,piece of common land towards woods •beyond. From this clump of trees came two galloping horsemen. They had apparently been waiting amongst the trees. "Does it mean rescue?" Betty exclaimed, trying to recognise the riders, but it had grown too dark for that. The only thing was that they were galloping after the coach and swiftly overtaking it. The coachman's keen eyes had seen them, too, had caught sight of them before Mary had. Perhaps he heard Lady Betty's words.

'■' Highwaymen, ladies! Keep still!" he shouted.

"Even they might prove better friends than the men into whose hands we have fallen 1 ," whispered Betty. It was absurd to think of any other rescue. Who would have known of their flight in time to have outdistanced the coach in this manner? Two men! Victor and Finley Baxter! The coach must have travelled miles out of its way to avoid too frequented roads, but was it possible that anyone could have learnt of her abduction so quickly, could have traced the journey so effectually, and ridden so fast as to be here waiting for them? Xo, it was utterly impossible. At the best some hours must elapse before Victor could hear anything. Even then how would he know where to look for her? The coachman kept his horses going at a full gallop, as he glanced bacic vor an instant to see how the pursuers were gaining. '•Can you drive?" he said to the footman. "Xo." "For thirty seconds you must. Take the reins, hold them firmly, but don't ■mill." He gave the reins carefully, then taking a pistol from his pocket turned and leaned back over the roof of the coach. "Keep them steady and on the road," he said. Then a shot rang out on the still evening air and the horse of the foremost rider plunged, fell on its knees, and rolled over. A second shot broke the silence again almost like a delayed echo of the first, and the horse of tke other rider reared up and fell backwards. "Poor brutes, they were .probably worth more than their masters." he said as he slipped into his seat and took the reins just in time to .prevent his own horses swerving from the roadway. With a firm hand and a caressing word he steadied them . Then he looked back. Both riders had risen to their feet, but one was bending as though he were hurt.

Betty had let down the window and thrust out her head to look back. Of course it could not be Victor, yet that she had thought of him at this moment, that he might have dashed after them in much the same fashion as these men had done, had paled her face and

brought a fear into her heart which no concern about, herself had had the power to do. "Highwaymen, my lady, are harmless without their horses," said the driver, as ilie coach swept down the steep incline which dipped into the woods on the other side of the common. CHAPTER XXV. IX ITRSUIT. Tt was still dark when Victor Dublinson and Einley Baxter reached l"xbrid'.:e. The place was asleep, there was no one about of whom they could enquire, ret unless Baxter's scout had been entirely deceived, someone must have roused and heard the coach go by some three hours since. "The horses were good, my man nartieularly noted that," -aid Baxter. "They were intended for a long journey." "And they have three hours' start," said Dubuisson. "They'll want more than to escape us, once we are on their track for certain. Let us ride on quietly. We shall have the light presently and someone along the wayside of whom to make enquiry. 1 reckon I'll play the bully woll enough to get answers from some of them." Baxter spoke as though the Tame were already half won, but it was extremely doubtful whether his conviction bore any relation to his words, iris companion had hardly spoken since they had left the inn by Tyburn turnpike, and he was anxious to encourage him. The morning came presently with a grey belt low down in the east, srroy that was soon shot with color and then throbbed with gold, which sent straight shafts of lig'ht towards the zenith. It was' a good hour later that Lady Betty had awoke and looked from the coach upon the new day and thought of Devon ' and the stretches of dewy grass about Abbots Chase.

Upon a little triangle of grass, where a side road forked with the main highway, a man woke now; perhaps the sharp hoof beats of the approaching horses roused him. The skeleton of an old oak, shattered years ago by the wind and lightning of a great storm, reared itself in gaunt loneliness at one corner, and beside it bundles of faggots were stacked, leaning together in much a manner that a low-pitched triangular tunnel was formed. Small boys and girls from the neighboring village must have played at keeping house there, and last might a tramp had found it a warm and dry retreat in which to sleep. The horsemen came to' the forking roads and stopped. "Which way now?" Dubuisson a*Ked.

Baxter looked first along one road, then along the other, and caught sight of the man peeping out from his house of faggots.

"Hallo there!" .he shouted. "Come land say good-morning and earn the price of a breakfast if you are in need 01 such a thing.'' The man crawled out willingly enough. "Been there all night?" asked Baxter, "Ves, and done no harm." "Did a coach pass and rouse you early this morning?" said Dubuisson. "I don't know what the time was, answered the man. "I'd been asleep and it .was dark. They changed horse* here and i heard something about Kichmond."

"Tell us all that happened, my man,'' said Dubuisson. "A true story is worth something to you now, and something more later, perhaps.''

"I don't know what time it was, hut I {iwoke all of a sudden and saw a lantern on the ground just about where I'm standing now. There were two men and four horses, and I should say tiiey were here a quarter of an hour before the coach came. There were only two ■horses in the coach, but they harnessed the four to it now. The driver was in a hurry and growled a bit. Then i heard a woman's voice say something about Richmond, and a man said something about the roads being bad." ''What sort of a man? Was ne in the carriage with the lady?"

"I could see little more than shadows by the light of that lantern," was the answer. "A man got up beside the driver when the coach started, but there may have been another inside." "Which way did they go?" "That way," said the man, pointing down the side road. "And where did the horses come from?" asked Baxter. "There's a village about a mile along the main road. They came from mat way." "Catch!" said Dubuisson, tossing a guinea into the man's hand. "And in a week's time ask for me— Baxter, at the Rose by Tyburn turnpike. If your information' is as good as it sounds you may find another guinea waiting for you, or maybe two." (To be continued on Wednesday).