At the next halt she caught sight of Vidal for a moment, as he mounted a fresh horse, but he did not come to the coach door. Apparently the lover was forgotten in his desire to press on. She had heard from Sophia that he travelled always at a break-neck pace, springing his horses; otherwise, she reflected, she might well have supposed that he was flying for his life.
Pale sunlight began at last to peep through the clouds. Mary tried to calculate how far they had journeyed, but could arrive at no satisfactory estimate. Houses came into sight, and presently the chaise swept into a cobbled street, and slackened speed.
A corner was turned. Mary saw a grey tumbling sea, and stared at it in bewilderment. That Vidal meant to carry Sophia out of England had never entered her head. She began to realize that such really was his intention, and remembering his late duel she felt that this possibility ought to have occurred to her before.
The chaise drew up with a lurch. She turned quickly from her contemplation of a yacht lying in the harbour and waited for the door to be opened.
Somebody let down the steps; it was Vidal who opened the door. “What, still masked?” he said. “I shall call you Prudence, love. Come!” He held out his hands to her, and before she could lay her fingers on his arm, caught her round the waist, and swung her lightly down. She had a momentary sensation of complete helplessness, and was annoyed to find that she liked it.
“In with you, sweetheart,” he said gaily. “There is just time for you to drink some coffee before I must bundle you aboard ship.”
A stout landlord was bowing her into the inn. Looking at him through the slits of her mask, she thought that she detected a sly expression on his discreet countenance, and concluded with a stab of anger, that she was not the first female Lord Vidal had brought to this inn. He ushered her into a parlour overlooking the sea, and stood bowing and smirking while Vidal delivered his orders. Mary walked to the fireplace, and stood there with her back turned.
“Yes, my lord, yes!” the landlord said. “Some coffee for the lady, and a roll, and a tankard of small-beer for your lordship. Yes, my lord; on the instant!”
“Let it be on the instant,” Vidal said, “or I miss the tide.”
“My lord, it shall be!” the landlord assured him, and bustled out.