She gasped and grew white.
He wore a horseman's cloak and a slouched hat. But she was not deceived in the brutal gleam of those steel-blue eyes. He was the ruffian who was hired to kill her.
Almost fainting, she communicated her fears to her servant, who grew very purple, and swore to be even with the varlet before long, and stopped the coach to tell the driver that the chap who had just passed was a villain, who ought to be arrested for attempted murder in a railway car; and the driver grew hot and excited, and leagued with three gentlemen on the outside to knock the fellow down and secure him the first minute they set eyes on him.
So Margaret and her attendant continued their journey with some sense of security; and, having the inside of the coach to themselves, could encourage each other to meet future dangers, when anything cheerful occurred to them to say.
But all through that afternoon they traveled safely, unmolested by even a glimpse of Mortlake's accomplice; and at noon they rattled into Llandaff, and stopped before Caerlyon's Hotel.
The groom was leading a smoking black horse round to the stables. Margaret whispered to Purcell, and pointed the animal out to him.
"His horse," she said. "Now, Purcell, see that you have him arrested. Fly! There's no time to lose. You must get a constable to go with you, I suppose."
Purcell disappeared in the bar to make inquiries, and Margaret at once took refuge in her room, and sent for the proprietor himself.
The Welsh landlord bustled in, full of politeness and good humor.
"Has Dr. Gay, from Regis, Surrey, been here, yesterday or to-day?" demanded the lady.