"'Twas my thought. These be ticklish times for travellers, and 'tis best not to meet strange riders in the dark. I'll bide till they be past, and then go on again."
He drew up under the trees about forty yards along the drive, within a few yards of the house. Dick heard him breathing heavily. The clattering of hoofs drew nearer: the driver seemed to hold his breath; then, when the horsemen had passed the end of the drive at a fast trot, he heaved a sigh of relief. He waited until the sounds had died away in the distance, and wheeled the horses round. There was not room on the grass for the carriage to turn completely, and the wheels made a crunching sound on the pebbly road. The side of the carriage was still turned to the house when the door opened, and John Trevanion appeared on the threshold, holding a candle above his head, and peering into the dark.
CHAPTER THE NINTH
Doubledick's Midnight Guests
"Who's that?" cried Trevanion.
Dick, being on the offside, was concealed by the driver's burly form, but he shrank back against the front of the carriage. He did not wish to meet his cousin's eyes at that moment, and began to wonder why he was on the box in the rain when he might have ridden inside.
"Axin' yer pardon, sir," replied the coachman, "I be afeard I've took the wrong road. 'Tis 'nation dark, and my lamp has gone out."
"What was that clattering of horses I heard?"
"Ah, I can't tell 'ee that. I didn't see no one. Maybe 'twas riding-officer. I axe yer pardon for disturbin' ye, sir, this terrible bad night and all, and I'll drive on to village."
"You're a stranger, aren't you? Have you got anybody in your carriage?"