Trooper Dan stopped him when he came abreast and put a hand on his arm.
“I want you, Steve Knight,” he said gravely. “An’ I must warn ye that anything ye say may be used in evidence against ye. I arrest ye for the murder o’ William Durgan.”
“What’s that?” said Steve, sharply. “Who says....”
“Stand back there,” snapped the trooper to the men who were pressing round him. “You must come wi’ me, Steve. I’m sorry, but——” A pair of handcuffs dangled in his hand as he spoke, and Steve took a step back. Aleck Gault was at his side and whispering rapidly in his ear, but Steve shook his head.
“Will you put those things away if I promise to come quietly?” he asked, nodding at the handcuffs.
“I’m sorry, Steve,” said the trooper. “I know yer word’s good as gold, but I have my duty, an’ I must do it.”
Steve looked at him evenly a moment, though his face was pale and set. “Then—do it,” he said suddenly, and on the word he snatched his sleeve from the trooper’s hand, leaped back a pace, and with a spring was in the saddle. The trooper clutched at him, but missed as the horse reared, plunged, and sprang forward with a bound, dashed out of the yard, and whirled round the corner.
With an oath Mulcahy leaped after him, and now a heavy police revolver swung in his hand. Some of the men crowded in his way, but he burst through them and ran to the corner. Steve was a couple of hundred yards away, going at a gallop, and within a few score yards of the dip leading to the bridge.
“Halt, or I fire,” shouted the trooper, and as Steve ducked flat on his horse’s neck and plunged the spurs in, the heavy revolver barked once—twice. Next instant horse and man disappeared over the crest with a rush. Mulcahy ran after him, but he ran slowly, and long before he was near enough to see over the crest the men heard the rolling drum of hoofs across the bridge and their clatter up the rocky slope on the other side, and saw Mulcahy turn back.
He said nothing to the men, but walked straight past them and into his own house.