“Oh yes, I believe it may be, but a bad road: no chance of springing your horses on it. Worth told me as much, advised the North Road at the outset, but I thought I would try the other. However, that’s neither here nor there. We ran a ding-dong race to Hatfield, and drew level at Bell Bar, the turnpike man being deaf, as I suppose, and keeping me waiting a good three minutes before he would open the gate. But it may have been that new man of mine I had with me. He carried the yard of tin, you know, but he has no notion how to sound it—put me out of all patience. I daresay the pike-keeper might not hear it at first. So Tom drew level with me there, and we had a famous race of it to Barnet. His nags were blowing by that tune, and he changed them at the Green Man. Mine had got their second wind some way back; I pushed on to Whetstone, had a fresh team harnessed up there—small quick-steppers, capital for a flat stage—and was away before Tom came in sight. Well, as you remember, Ju, you come on to Finchley Common past Whetstone. You know how we saw Turpin’s Oak, and wondered whether we should be held up by highwaymen. No sign of highwaymen that day, but would you believe it, I was held up to-day!”
“Good God!” Judith exclaimed. “You were actually robbed?”
“No such thing. But I will tell you. I had not driven a great distance over the Common—had not reached Tally Ho Corner, in fact—when I caught sight of a horseman, half-hidden from me by some trees. I was travelling at a smart pace, as you may guess—nothing on the road beyond a post-chaise met with half a mile back—and I made nothing of this rider, hardly noticed him. Imagine my amazement when a shot came whistling by my head! I believe it must have killed me, only that that man of mine, chancing to catch sight of the rogue as he was about to fire, fairly knocked me out of my seat. So the bullet went wide, and there we were, Hinkson snatching at the reins, and one of the leaders with his leg over the trace. I thought we had been overset at any moment. I need not tell you it did not take me long to snatch my pistol from the holster, but I’d no luck; could not well see our man for the trees. I took my shot at a venture, and missed. Hinkson thrust the reins into my hands, and just as our man comes out of the thicket, what does Hinkson do but whip out a pistol from his picket, and fire it! Did you ever hear of a groom carrying pistols before? But so it was. He fired, and our man lets a squawk, claps his hand to his right arm, and drops his barker. By that time I’d pulled out our second pistol, but there was no need to use it. The rascal was making off as fast as his horse would carry him, and when Tom came up, as he soon did, we had the leaders disentangled, and were ready to be off again.”
“Merciful heavens!” cried Mrs. Scattergood. “You might have been killed!”
“Oh well, I daresay I should not have been. I daresay the rogue only fired to frighten us, though the shot seemed to pass devilish close. If he had robbed me he would have found himself out of luck, for I’d no more than a couple of guineas in my purse. Ju, you are looking quite pale! Nonsensical girl, it was nothing! The merest brush!”
“Yes,” she said faintly. “The merest brush. Yet to have you fired upon, the shot coming so close, and the man riding up afterwards, as though to finish his work—it terrifies me, I confess! You are safe, and unhurt, and that must satisfy me— should satisfy me, yet does not.”
He put his arm round her. “Why, this is nothing but an irritation of nerves, Ju! It’s not like you to quake for such a small cause. You refine too much upon it. Ten to one but the fellow had no thought of injuring me.”
“I daresay he might not. Perhaps I do refine too much upon it; it has taken strong possession of my mind, I own. The danger you so lately passed through, and now this! But I am fanciful; you need not tell me so.”
“Oh, if you are to recall that meeting, I have done!” he said, impatiently. “There can be no connection.”
She agreed to it, and said no more. Having told his tale he did not wish to be still talking of it, and what vague fears she might still cherish she kept to herself. He began to speak of the hunting he had enjoyed, of the company to be met with in Hertfordshire, the Assembly they had attended, and a dozen other circumstances of his visit. She had time to recover her composure, and was ready, upon Peregrine’s having no more to say, to recount her own diversions since their last meeting. Belvoir must be described, Worth’s unusually gentle manners touched upon, and finally the Duke of Clarence’s attentions laughed over.