CHAPTER XLI
CONCERNING HIGHWAYMEN AND THE ELEMENT OF SURPRISE
My lady Betty leaned back in the corner of her coach, gazed at her aunt's slumbering features dim-seen in the light of the flickering lamps, and yawned. The storm had abated, the rain had passed, but the darkness was around them, a darkness full of rioting wind, and mud was below them through which the heavy wheels splashed dismally as the great coach laboured on its way.
My lady Betty, stretching rounded limbs luxuriously, yawned again and having nothing particular to look at, closed her eyes; but, almost immediately she opened them rather wider than usual, and sat up suddenly as, from somewhere amid the gusty dark outside, a loud voice hailed, a pistol cracked and the coach pulled up with a jerk.
Instantly Lady Belinda awoke, screamed "Highwaymen!" and swooned. Next moment the coach door swung open and Lady Betty saw a sodden hat with a hideous, masked face below; she saw also two arms that seized her roughly, dragged her forward and whirled her out into the tempestuous darkness. Hereupon my lady struggled once, found it vain, screamed once, felt the cry blown away and lost in the wind and, resisting no more, reserved her forces for what might be. Next she was aware of a dim shape, was bundled through a narrow opening, was seized by hands that aided her to a cushioned seat, heard the slam of a door, a hoarse command, and was jolted fast over an uneven road.
Instinctively she reached out her hand, groping for the door, felt that hand clasped in smooth, strong fingers, and a voice spoke close beside her:
"That would be unwise, sweet Bet?"
Recognising that voice, she freed her hand and shrank back into her corner, shivering all at once; yet when she spoke her voice was almost casual.
"This is quite surprising, Mr. Dalroyd."
"But more delightful!" he retorted, and she was aware that his hand, in the darkness, was seeking hers again.
"Yet—how very foolish and—and unnecessary!" said she a little breathlessly.
"Unnecessary—ha, perhaps, dear Betty——"
"Had I not promised to fly with you, next week?"
"True, my Bet, true, but next week is—next week. And then besides though you would have run off with me in your own time yet I prefer to run off with you in my own time. Moreover——"
"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 butt 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 hoarse 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 snatched 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. "God, 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 nob, 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.