"Not that I know of," answered the head groom. "Tie down that holster, Bill. The thongs are loose--don't you see?"
"Oh, but there must be something in the wind," rejoined the landlord, "the colonel wouldn't ride out so late else."
"Lord bless you!" replied the man, "little you know of his ways. Why, sometimes he'll have us all up at two or three in the morning, just to visit a post of perhaps twenty men. He's a smart officer, I can tell you; and no one must be caught napping in his regiment, that's certain."
"But you have saddled three horses for him!" said the landlord, returning to his axiom; "and he can't ride three at once, any how."
"Ay, but who can tell which he may like to ride?" rejoined the groom, "we shan't know anything about that, till he comes into the stable, most likely."
"And where is he going to, to-night?" asked the landlord.
"We can't tell that he's going anywhere," answered the man; "but if he does, I should suppose it would be to Folkestone. The major is away on leave, you know; and it is just as likely as not, that he'll go over to see that all's right there."
The worthy host was not altogether satisfied with the information he received; but as he clearly saw that he should get no more, he retired, and went into the tap, to try the dragoons, without being more successful in that quarter than he had been in the stables.
In the meantime, his guest up stairs had finished his letters--had dressed himself in uniform--armed himself, and laid three brace of pistols, charged, upon the table, for the holsters of his saddles; and then taking a large map of the county, he leaned over it, tracing the different roads, which at that time intersected the Weald of Kent. Two or three times he took out his watch; and as the hour of eleven drew near, he began to feel considerable alarm for the fate of poor Mowle.
"If they discover him, they will murder him, to a certainty," he thought; "and I believe a more honest fellow does not live.--It was a rash and foolish undertaking. The measures I have adopted could not fail.--Hark! there is the clock striking. We must lose no more time. We may save him yet, or at all events, avenge him." He then called the soldier from the door, and sent off a messenger to the house of the second officer of Customs, named Birchett, who came up in a few minutes.