He made no answer, but lay back on the seat as before, and I did not attempt to rouse him. The incident disquieted me, for it showed that he was dead set on outwitting me, and would do so if I relaxed for a single second the strain of his terror of my pistol.
The carriage was now travelling at a great pace, the man urging the horses to a gallop over every yard of level road. We reached the first village without further incident, and I told the man where to get the change of horses. There was a little delay in rousing the people of the place, but once roused they set to work with a will, and in a very few minutes we were spinning on again with the fresh cattle at the same high speed for the next stage.
Markov had done his work shrewdly, and had planned the route so that for the greater part of the way we travelled without having to use the main road. But the by-ways were rough going in many places, and this retarded our progress. We made good time, however, and when we changed horses for the second, third, and fourth times without being stopped, my hopes began to rise fast that we might even reach the frontier unchallenged. We had covered over forty miles, and yet, including the time spent in changing horses, we had barely been four hours on the road.
A check came soon after the fourth change, however. We had to take to the main road, and had covered some two or three miles, when I heard a shout and felt the carriage checked suddenly.
“Who goes there?” called someone, and looking out I saw we were in the midst of a strong patrol.
“You’d better not stop us. I’m driving express. It’s General Kolfort,” came the coachman’s voice.
I caught my breath, and my prisoner roused himself instantly and sat up. I passed my arm round him and, pressing the revolver against his ribs over his heart from behind, I said:
“You will tell these men to allow us to pass. My pistol is within an inch of your heart, and my finger on the trigger.” I felt him shudder. “Let that window down, and call to them angrily. You know me.”
He let it down, fumbling clumsily, so that with my disengaged hand I had to help him.
The non-commissioned officer in charge of the patrol had dismounted and came to the window.