This information seemed to lend him an energy he had not felt for some time—the energy necessary for a struggle. Had Cecil been going to Gretna Green, the captain would have suffered him to depart in peace. But certain suspicions of foul play had tormented him ever since his meeting with Cecil at his bed-room door.
"The villain!" he said to himself. "He has accomplished her ruin, and now does not even intend to marry her. But she has a protector, thank God! ... I will shoot the reprobate this very night."
He moved away; and, retiring behind the hedge, carefully examined his pistols, which he had brought with him, anticipating some use for them.
Meanwhile, Cecil was placing the ladder for Blanche to descend.
"Hark ye!" said Captain Heath, again approaching the postilion. "As London is your route, I propose accompanying you. There is a crown, to ensure your blindness. I shall get up behind. When you arrive at the first stage, you will promise to pass the word on to the postilion who succeeds you; he shall have half-a-crown for his silence; and so on, till we reach London. Is it a bargain?"
"Ay, surely, sir."
"Well, I will walk on. When you get beyond the village, and reach the clump of fir trees that skirt the road to the right of Mrs. St. John's—you know it?"
"Yes, sir."
"There some part of the harness must get out of order, and you must dismount to set it right. While doing so, I will get up behind, and then you may drive on as fast as you please. D'ye hear?"
"Yes, sir; all right."