The postilions had dragged their frightened horses to a standstill. Captain Heron pressed up closer, covering them with his pistol. Sir Roland, a connoisseur of horse-flesh, had allowed his attention to be diverted by the two wheelers, and was studying them closely.
The Viscount and Mr Hawkins had ridden up to the chaise. The window was let down with a bang, and an old gentleman with a red face pushed his head and shoulders out, and extending his arm fired a small pistol at the Viscount. “Dastardly rogues! Cut-throat robbers! Drive on, you cowardly rascals!” he spluttered.
The shot sang past the Viscount’s ear; the mare reared up in alarm, and was steadied again. “Hi, mind what you’re about, sir!” said his lordship indignantly. “You devilish near got me in the head!”
Mr Hawkins on the other side of the chaise, thrust his pistol into the old gentleman’s face. “Drop your pops!” he growled. “And step out, d’you see? Come on, out with you!” He let the reins fall on his horse’s neck, and leaned sideways in the saddle, and wrenched open the door of the chaise. “A rare gager, you are! Hand over your truss! Ah, and that pretty lobb o’ yourn!”
The Viscount said quickly: “Draw off, you fool! Wrong man!”
“Lordy, he’s good enough for me!” replied Mr Hawkins, wresting a snuff-box from the old gentleman’s grasp. “A nice little lobb, this! Come on now, where’s your truss?”
“I’ll have the Watch on you!” raved his victim. “Damnable! Broad daylight! Take that, you thief!” With which he dashed his hat at Mr Hawkins’s pistol, and diving back into the coach seized a long ebony cane.
“Lord, he’ll have an apoplexy,” said the Viscount, and rode round the chaise to Mr Hawkins’s side. “Give me that snuffbox,” he ordered briefly. “Edward! Here, Edward! Take the fool away! We’ve got the wrong man.” He dodged a blow aimed at his head with the ebony cane, tossed the snuff-box into the chaise, and reined back. “Let ’em go, Pom!” he called.
Sir Roland came round to him. “Wrong man, is it? Tell you what, Pel—as nice a pair of wheelers as I’ve seen. Just what I’ve been looking for. Think he’d sell?”
The old gentleman, still perched on the step of the chaise, shook his fist at them. “Murderous dogs!” he raved. “You’ll find I’m a match for you, you rogues! Don’t like the look of this little cane of mine, eh? I’ll break the head of the first man to come a step nearer! Robbers and cowards! White-livered scoundrels! Drive on, you damned shivering fools! Ride ’em down!”