“Well, my man? Well? Whither away so fast?”
The mare had been brought perforce to a standstill. John looked into that handsome, lazy face, and spoke urgently. “Let me pass, sir. I must get to his lordship.”
The eyes were keen and searching. “Yes?” said Sir Anthony. “And wherefore?”
“It’s Miss Prue!” John said in an agony of impatience. “She’s taken by the Law for the killing of Mr Markham! Now will you let me pass, sir?”
The large hand on the bridle had tightened; the indolent air was gone. “Less than ever, my man. When was she taken? Come, let me have the whole story, and quickly!”
“She’s on the road now, sir, behind me! I must get to my lord.”
“We won’t trouble his lordship,” said Sir Anthony. “This is my affair.”
John looked doubtful. The large gentleman had a masterful way with him, but John was inclined to trust to no one but my lord. He waited.
Sir Anthony passed his riding whip absently down the neck of his horse. His eyes looked straight ahead, and they were frowning. After a moment he turned his head, and spoke. “Yes, I think we might compass it, John,” he said placidly. “Have you a mind to a fight?”
John smiled grimly. “Try me, sir! You’ll stop the coach?”