"You are welcome," she said haughtily, and she drew the ring from her finger. "I would give a trinket of more value," she cried, stamping her little foot, "to be freed from your company now!"
The words stung him.
"You will remember those words, madam," he said, "some day—when this ring returns to your keeping."
He shut the lantern, which during all this time had thrown its yellow light on the strange scene, mounted his horse and disappeared. The horse was snow white, and it passed by like a white gleam in the darkness.
It was pitch dark now, and the horror of their situation was increased by the moans which Mr. Barnes began to utter as consciousness slowly returned.
It was a relief to all when the familiar sound of flint and steel smote the ear, and the coachman awkwardly, with his bound hands, attempted to light the lamps of the coach. Betty's first business was to unfasten the ropes which bound the men hand and foot, and by degrees they were able to take in their exact position.
One of the leaders had been shot dead, the traces had been cut, but the frightened horses had not strayed out of reach.
Mary Jones was in a dead faint, and, in the absence of all restoratives, seemed likely to remain so.
Mr. Barnes, his head carefully bound up by Betty and her father, was at last able to rise to his feet and take his place in the carriage.
The dawn was already breaking, and a white light stealing over the murky sky, before the mail could once more get under weigh and move heavily forwards.