“So one of you is left behind,” he shouted exultantly. “And it’s the leading lady, too! I’ll take care she stays here, until after a settlement. I’ll stop you yet! Stealing away in the middle of the night, you––you vagabonds!”
His voice, growing louder and louder, ended in a shrieking crescendo. Disheartened, there seemed no alternative for the players save to turn back and surrender unconditionally. Barnes breathed a deep sigh; 202 so much for a tippet!––their dash for freedom had been but a sorry attempt!––now he saw visions of prison bars, and uttered a groan, when the soldier who was riding his own horse dashed forward beneath the window and stood upright in his stirrups.
“Do not be afraid, Miss Carew,” he said.
Fortunately the window was low and the distance inconsiderable, but Barnes held his breath, hoping the hazard would deter her.
“Do not, my dear!” he began.
But she did not hesitate; the sight of the stalwart figure and the strong arms, apparently reassured her, and she stepped upon the sill.
“Quick!” he exclaimed, and, at the word, she dropped into his upstretched arms. Scarcely had she escaped, however, before the landlord was seen at the same window. So astonished was he to find her gone, surprise at first held him speechless; then he burst into a volley of oaths that would have shamed a whaler’s master.
“Come back!” he cried. “Come back, or––” The alternative was lost in vengeful imprecation.
Holding Constance before him, the soldier resumed his saddle. “Drive on!” he cried to Barnes, as past the chariot sped his horse, with its double burden.