“Hands up!” The voice was sharp and compelling. There was nothing for Markham to do but to raise his arms above his head. Inwardly he was cursing: this meant not only delay, but loss of all the money he had brought with him.
“Madam,” — the Unknown was speaking to Letty, but he did not take his eyes from Markham’s face — “oblige me by searching this gentleman’s pockets for a pistol.”
Letty pulled herself together. He spoke as to a stranger: she was not to know him then. Oh, here was romance indeed! Romance, and a rescue such as she had not dreamed to be possible. She pushed back her cloak, and with hands that shook, but with a business-like determination in her small face, dived into the pocket nearest her. There was nothing there. She stretched an arm across Mr Markham, taking care not to obtrude herself between his person and the Unknown’s pistol, and felt in the right-hand pocket. As her fingers closed round the butt of a pistol she felt Mr Markham’s hard breathing, and guessed his impotent fury. With a little laugh caught in her throat she pulled out the weapon. “I have it, sir! I’ll take care of it!”
She saw the flash of white teeth. “Bravo, madam! Hold fast to it. Sir, be pleased to come down!”
The chafing, fidgeting horse was pulled back; the Unknown bent gracefully in the saddle, and his hand left the bridle to swing open the coach door. Letty sat grasping the pistol, and pointing it at Mr Markham. Her eyes were bright, and her pretty mouth was set tightly. Mr Markham took one look, with a vague notion of wresting the pistol from her, but decided that the further he got from a weapon held in such determined but inexpert hands the better. He jumped down on to the road, just as the Unknown sprang lightly from the saddle.
“You damned footpad!” Mr Markham exploded. “By God, I’ll have you hunted down for this! You cowardly fools there, why didn’t you fire?” He had flung round angrily to look at the men on the box, and saw soon enough the reason for their inaction. In spite of that first shot no one seemed to be hurt, but the two men on the box sat huddled together, staring with popping eyes at the long barrel of a pistol held by a second horseman, who had them covered. The man on one of the leaders sat as still as the fretting horse would let him, and his gaze was as fixed and as fearful as his companion’s. On the road lay a heavy blunderbuss: there had evidently been no time to fire the cumbersome weapon, and it had been surrendered immediately. This second horseman was masked as well and greatcoated. Letty peeping out, could see only the line of a square jaw, and a stocky silhouette. He did not appear to be much interested in what his companion was about, but kept his head and his pistol turned towards the box of the coach.
The Unknown had flung off his greatcoat. “Oh, what an unkind spirit!” he mocked in answer to Mr Markham. “But I’m generous: I offer you a fight, a fair fight, when I might shoot you like the dog you are. Come, where’s your sword, sir? Here’s the gracious moon to light us, and witnesses enough to see fair play!”
“Fight a damned cut-throat robber?” cried Markham. “If I’d a cane you should taste of it!”
The Unknown laughed merrily. “Should I, sir? Should I indeed? Keep him covered, madam!”
“I am!” avowed Letty, grasping her pistol tighter than ever.