“Not he,” answered the other. “Run for your life—or her life—your wife, Dan! That’s where he’s gone, and that’s where you’ll find him. Fly—take my horse; but I’m afraid he has; and, if so, you’ll never catch him. Nothing we’ve got will overtake my gelding.”
But his last words were spoken to air, for Dan, albeit he had been slow to rouse, was indeed alive at last. In two minutes he had left the house. There was no difficulty, for the doors stood open as Sim had left them. But Vivian’s fast hack was not in the stable, and nothing else there, under Dan’s heavy weight, stood the smallest chance of catching it.
The first tremor of dawn was in the sky, and its ghastly ray touched a circle of plate glass. The glass belonged to the great front lamp of Henry Vivian’s new motor-car, and it stood there, the incarnation of sleeping strength and speed. There was no time to ask leave or return to the house, but Daniel knew his master’s only regret would be that he could not accompany him. He understood the great machine well, and had already driven it on several occasions. It was of forty horse-power and easily able to breast the steep acclivities that stretched between Middlecott Court and the Moor; but the road was dangerous and a good horse had power to proceed more swiftly over half of the ground than any vehicle on wheels. Once in the Moor, however, it might be possible to make up lost ground. For four or five miles Daniel calculated that he could drive the car many times as fast as a horse could gallop. Thus he might get even with Sim at the finish.
As quickly as possible he lighted the lamp, set the motor in motion, and went upon his way. As he departed he hooted loudly, that Henry Vivian might know the thing he had done.
CHAPTER XX
FIVE MILES IN FIVE MINUTES
Dawn fought with night and slowly conquered as Dan in the great motor panted upwards from Middlecott to the high lands above. His way led through dense woods, and the blaze of the lamp threw a cone of light far ahead, while the wheels beneath him turned silently and swiftly over a carpet of pine needles under the darkness, or jolted over the tree roots that spread in ridges across the way. To the east a cold pallor stole between the regiments of trunks, but as yet no bird called or diurnal beast moved from its holt. In the earth as he drove along, Dan could mark the fresh imprint of hoofs upon the ground, stamped darkly there. The gate at the end of the wood hung open as the horseman had left it, and Sweetland perceived that his master was in the right. Now, chafed by the sweet cold air, his black face burned and his blood leapt at his heart. But anger it was that heated him. The trust and friendship and honest love of a lifetime were turned in these terrible moments to hatred. As he leapt forward and altered his gear for climbing a steep and tortuous hill, his mind’s gear likewise changed. From his soul he shut off love and pity for ever; he forgot all this knave had suffered, but only remembered his own sufferings and accumulated misfortunes. Sim had hoped, and still hoped, to hang him; Sim had seized the chance offered by the Devil to tear him from his young wife’s side upon their wedding day; Sim had plotted and planned with a spider’s patience and craft to fill his shoes; and even now what fiend’s errand might he be upon? But the luxury of rage was not for this moment. Once Dan’s hand shook and in a second he came near wrecking the motor between lofty hedge-banks. He saved it by six inches and turned cold at the danger averted. Her life might depend upon his skill and coolness now. The car grunted slowly up a stiff hill of rough and broken surface. Here a horse’s progress must be infinitely swifter than his own. His heart sank at the necessary tardiness of progress; but his anger died, and, when it was possible to increase speed, the man had mastered himself and drove with utmost skill and judgment.
Light began to gather in the sky, and Dan was glad, for in five minutes more he would be upon the waste land and must make his effort. From the Moor gate to Johnny Beer’s publichouse was five miles, and Sweetland calculated that if he could accomplish that distance in as many minutes, he and Sim ought to arrive at the inn together. But two long and stiff hills occurred upon the road. These must slow him down considerably and, to make up for the lost time, it would be necessary to take declivities and level ground at the greatest pace his car could travel. He thoroughly estimated the tremendous risks he ran and the fatal issue of any mistake. He was only thankful that, for good or ill, the ordeal must be over in minutes. Either he would perish with a broken neck, or he would save his wife from possible destruction. It was now light enough to see the road ahead. The Moor gate, blown by the wind, also hung open; he rushed forward without slackening of speed.
Sim, it seemed, had not counted upon such swift pursuit. By shutting the gates behind him, he had much improved his own chances, but all stood ajar save one, and Sweetland’s hope was so much the higher. Now out on the high Moor, no further obstacles could be met with. The surface was good, the road wide, and it was unlikely that any vehicle would share the way with him or be passed, either going or approaching. Ponies or sheep might, indeed, interrupt him, but he trusted to his hooter to frighten them away before he reached them.