Stephen bit his lip and glanced at the carriage.
“Put the others back,” he said, “and tell Masters to drive for his life.”
Slummers hesitated and went to the coachman, coming back in a moment with an uneasy countenance.
“I’m—I’m afraid they won’t reach Clumley in time, sir,” he said. “Masters says that it is impossible. Calculating on fresh horses, he has forced them a bit on the road, and they are used up. If you will look at them, sir——”
Stephen uttered an oath, and his face twitched.
The coachman came up, troubled but respectful. It was no fault of his.
“I thought I should get the change here, sir. I couldn’t do it, unless the horses had a quarter of an hour and a wipe down, and then——”
He paused and shook his head.
Stephen controlled himself, though his face was white.
“A quarter of an hour,” he said. “We will wait so long, and not a moment longer. Then drive as if your life depended on it. Do not spare the horses.”