The steward having got on horseback, Hal led the way back into the yard. The three then wheeled about, and stood just within the now wide-open gate. Anthony at Hal's right and bearing the lanthorn in his left hand, Kit at Hal's left. Hal measured with his ears the constantly decreasing distance of the hoof-beats on the hard road, as they advanced at a steady walking pace. Through the silence came the sound of a far-off clock striking eight, and then of the approaching horsemen talking to one another in low tones.
At last Hal said, "Now!" and rode forth into the road, which was here of exceptional width. The three, riding abreast, turned toward London, as if intending to ride southward. Had they continued, they would soon have met the approaching horsemen face to face. But suddenly Hal, as if he now for the first time discovered the presence of newcomers, stopped short, as did also his two attendants. Anthony, in pretence of enabling the make-believe Sir Valentine to perceive who the horsemen were, held the lanthorn up, a little to the right and rear of Hal's body, so that it revealed his attitude and left his face in shadow. Leaning forward, as in pain, yet with head stiffly set, shoulders forced back, hat low on brow, left elbow thrust out, and beard well outlined against the light, Hal peered anxiously into the gloom. Out of that gloom there came, after a startled exclamation and a hush of low voices, the clear greeting:
"Give you good even, Sir Valentine!"
Hal uttered a swift order to his men. Anthony instantly wheeled around, to take the lead, and rode northward. Hal did likewise, and was immediately followed by Captain Bottle. As soon as Hal made sure that Kit had turned, he called to the steward ahead to make speed; and a moment later the three were galloping over the frozen road at the devil's gait.
"Halt! In the queen's name!" rang out of the darkness behind, in the voice that had been heard before.
"Go to hell, Roger Barnet!" shouted back Kit Bottle, to Hal's astonishment.
"You know him?" queried Hal, as the horses flew onward.
"Yes, and a taker of traitors he is, sure enough!" growled Kit through the night. "A very hell-hound, at a man's heels! Hear him cursing, back yonder, for his pistol will not go off! They have whipped up; the whole pack is on the scent!"
"Good!" cried Hal. "Sir Valentine and the priest will have plain sailing. The chase is begun, old Kit! Five days of this, and the hounds must neither lose nor catch us! Ods-body, the Puritan's lanthorn is out! I hope he knows the road in the dark!"