Instantly Lady Belinda awoke, screamed "Highwaymen!" and swooned. Next moment the coach door swung open and Lady Betty saw a sodden hat with a hideous, masked face below; she saw also two arms that seized her roughly, dragged her forward and whirled her out into the tempestuous darkness. Hereupon my lady struggled once, found it vain, screamed once, felt the cry blown away and lost in the wind and, resisting no more, reserved her forces for what might be. Next she was aware of a dim shape, was bundled through a narrow opening, was seized by hands that aided her to a cushioned seat, heard the slam of a door, a hoarse command, and was jolted fast over an uneven road.
Instinctively she reached out her hand, groping for the door, felt that hand clasped in smooth, strong fingers, and a voice spoke close beside her:
"That would be unwise, sweet Bet?"
Recognising that voice, she freed her hand and shrank back into her corner, shivering all at once; yet when she spoke her voice was almost casual.
"This is quite surprising, Mr. Dalroyd."
"But more delightful!" he retorted, and she was aware that his hand, in the darkness, was seeking hers again.
"Yet—how very foolish and—and unnecessary!" said she a little breathlessly.
"Unnecessary—ha, perhaps, dear Betty——"
"Had I not promised to fly with you, next week?"
"True, my Bet, true, but next week is—next week. And then besides though you would have run off with me in your own time yet I prefer to run off with you in my own time. Moreover——"