One moment he spent in recovering his breath, and settling his hat somewhat gingerly on his head, and then, taking a firm grip on his cane, he stole up the stairs.
He reached the top, and knew that he had been correct in his assumption that he wasimprisoned in the Bird in Hand. He remembered that there was a door leading into the yard at the back of the house, and he made for this. From the tap-room came the sound of convivial song and laughter. There was no one to be seen in the dimly lit space by the yard-door, and he thought for a moment that he was going to make his escape unperceived. And then, Just as he was within a few steps of his goal, a door on his right opened, and Mr. Mimms came out, carrying a large jug.
Mr. Mimms gave one startled grunt, dropped the jug, and lunged forward. The Duke was expert in the use of the singlestick, but he employed none of the arts he had been taught. Side-stepping Mr. Mimms’s bull-like rush, he made one neat thrust with his cane between his legs, and brought him crashing to the ground. The next instant he had reached the yard-door, and had torn it open, and was stumbling over the cobbles and the refuse outside the inn.
It was a dark night, and the yard seemed to be full of obstacles, but the Duke managed to get across it, to grope his way round a comer of the barn, and, as his eyes grew accustomed to the murk, to reach the field beyond. In the distance behind him, he thought he could hear voices. He thanked God that there was no moon, and ran for his life, heading in what he hoped was the direction of the village of Arlesey.
By the time he reached the straggling hedge that shut the fields off from the lane he was out of breath, and staggering on his feet. He was obliged to stand still, to recover himself a little, and he took the opportunity of looking back towards the inn. It was hidden from him by trees, but he was able to see a faint red glow, and realized that his fire must have taken good hold. He gave a panting laugh, and pushed his way through the hedge on to the lane. Mr. Mimms would have enough on his hands without adding the pursuit of his prisoner to it, he thought; and if the man in riding-dress thought the recapture of his prize of more importance than the quenching of the fire, the deep ditch beside the lane would afford excellent cover for a fugitive. The Duke walked as fast as he could down the lane, straining his ears for any sound of footsteps behind him. But he thought that he would be searched for in the fields rather than in the road.
The first cottages of Arlesey came into sight. Chinks of lamplight shone between several window-blinds. The Duke, reeling from mingled faintness and fatigue, chose a cottage at random, and knocked on the door. It was presently opened to him by a stolid-looking man in fustian breeches, and a velveret jacket, who opened his eyes at sight of his dishevelled visitor, and ejaculated: “Lord ha’ mussy! Whatever be the matter with you, sir?”
“Will you allow me to rest here till daylight?” said the Duke, leaning against the lintel of the door. “I have—suffered an accident, and—I rather fancy—some murderous fellows are on my heels.”
A stout woman, who had been peeping round her husband’s massive form, exclaimed: “The poor young gentleman! I’ll lay my life it’s them murdering thieves as haunts the Bird in Hand! Come you in, sir! come you in!”
“Thank you!” said the Duke, and fainted.