"I ride to Province House," I said, briefly. "Jack, fetch a cloak to hide your buckskins and wait me here. Gentlemen, I wish you fortune in your journey."
As I rode out into Cambridge Street, thunder boomed in the east, and I saw the forked lightning racing through inky heavens, veining the storm with jewelled signs.
"God writes on heaven's wall!" I said, aloud.
A strange exultation stirred me; the dark world lay free and wide before me, and I would ride it, now, from end to end, till Silver Heels was mine and Butler's soul had dropped back into that pit from whence it had crawled to hide within his demon's body.
In Hillier's Lane I put Warlock to a gallop, but drew bridle in muddy Sudbury Street, where, from the darkness, a strident voice called on me to halt.
"Who comes there?" repeated the voice. I heard the trample of horsemen and the clink of sabres striking stirrups.
"Coureur-de-bois for Province House!" I answered, calmly. A chafing temper began to heat my blood; I gathered my bridle and dropped one hand on my hatchet.
"On whose affairs ride you?" demanded the spectral dragoon, laying his horse broadside across mine.
"On my own affairs!" I cried, angrily; "pull out there!—do you hear me, fellow?"
A lanthorn was lifted to my face.