“Six or seven. Two of your fellows looked pretty bad when they was carried out.”
We turned down a by-street, but as soon as the guard had disappeared we retraced our steps and hastened to the Thatcher stables.
The rain was whipped into our faces as we bent against the wind, and the whish and roar of the gale among the trees, and the rattle of loose boards and tins, as they were tossed and shaken behind the houses, gave a melancholy accompaniment to our hasty march.
“Hist!” said Fitzhugh in my ear. “Is that some one following us?”
I drew him into a corner, and peered back into the darkness.
“I can see no one.”
“I thought I heard a man running.”
“Wait a minute. If there is any one after us he must lose us right here.”
We listened in silence. Only the plash of water and the voice of the storm came to our ears.
“Well, if they are looking for us they have gone the other way. Come along,” I said.