Proceeding at a fair pace they came very soon upon the scene of the late duel. Contrary to Robin’s expectations the coach still stood in the road, though it had been turned to face towards London. Obviously much time had been wasted in discussion and argument. Miss Letty stood by the door; two of the men were carrying Markham’s body, covered by a cloak, to the coach.
Prudence spurred forward, and came up to the group. “Good gad, what’s toward?” she cried. “Upon my soul — Miss Grayson!”
“Mr Merriot!” Letty’s voice held a sob of relief. “Oh, Mr Merriot, please help me!” She ran forward to Prudence’s knee.
Prudence was all wonder. “But what a’ God’s name has happened? How do you come to be here at this hour o’ night? Who is with you? And what the plague have you there?” Her riding whip pointed to the two men’s burden.
“I can’t tell you; I can’t tell you; it’s all so dreadful!” Letty shuddered. “Gregory Markham’s dead, and oh dear! I can’t travel all the way back with him beside me. I can’t!”
The light chaise pulled up with them; Miss Merriot’s face appeared at the window. “What’s this, my Peter? ’ Pon rep, not you, Letty? Why, child, how comes this? Where’s your aunt?”
“Kate!” Miss Letty ran forward. “Oh, take me in with you! Mr Markham has been killed by highwaymen, and I don’t know what to do!”
“Good God, child!” Miss Merriot was aghast. “Markham? Highwaymen? But what have you to do with all this?”
“I cannot tell you,” Letty said hopelessly. “Please do not ask me!”
Prudence gave a sharp order. One of Mr Markham’s men came to let down the steps of Robin’s coach. Letty was up to them in a twinkling, and had cast herself into the arms of Miss Merriot.