The Regent pulled out his watch. "Damnation!" he exclaimed, "it's close on eight o'clock. Ah! I thought so." At that moment the Horse Guards clock began to strike that hour. "You must ride hard, gentlemen. You've sixty-two miles to cover in four hours. Come, I've done Brighton in the time; and you won't be stopped—except by highwaymen; but those gentlemen mostly work by night."
He laughed, and, leaning forward, began to recount an adventure of his own, in which a highwayman had figured, when he had been stopped upon the Brighton Road. But, while he was talking, the Hussar, bowing comprehensively all round, had led his prisoner from the room; the last thing they heard, as they paced the corridor, being the coarse laugh of the Regent and the words, "Damnation, impudent, eh, Pitt? Truth, upon honor; egad what impudent——"
The words died away, and, in a few seconds, St. Just found himself in the traveling carriage—a royal one. It was beautifully padded and with springs so carefully adjusted that, even on the roughest road, the jolting was almost imperceptible. Four horses were harnessed to it.
The royal-liveried postilions glanced curiously at their unusual "fares," the door was banged to, the escort surrounded the carriage, and then, at a word from the grizzled sergeant in command, the cavalcade set out.
CHAPTER II.
Headed by a portion of their escort, they started at a rapid trot, wheeled round the corner of Downing Street, then past the Houses of Parliament and across Westminster Bridge, and on to where the Brighton Road begins.
Soon they had passed the outskirts of the metropolis and were in the open country. Then they put on a spanking pace, over hill and down dale, the horses galloping on every level stretch of road and down all safe descents, and even up gentle rises. The carriage oscillated from side to side, with the speed at which they were traveling, but there was little jolting, for in those days the Brighton Road was famous for its high condition, and was as smooth almost as a billiard table.
Their first halting place was the White Hart at Reigate, where they stopped for a change of horses. Here Captain Anson left the carriage and, after placing a soldier at each door with orders to prevent St. Just from leaving the carriage or speaking to any one, returned almost immediately, followed by the obsequious landlord with a basket, a welcome sight to the prisoner in the carriage, who was famishing.
The escort were, after resting their horses, to return to their barracks at Hounslow, for it would have been impossible for the men, without remounts, to accompany the carriage all the way. Captain Anson ordered two of the troopers to mount to the box; then, all being ready, they rattled off again with their fresh team.
There was a bottle of wine in the basket, and certain appetizing viands, and, under their influence, the tongues of both the occupants of the carriage became unloosed; for, up to this time, there had been little conversation. But now Captain Anson, in particular, became quite talkative, relating many amusing anecdotes and giving St. Just an insight into fashionable life in London in the Regency. Thus the time occupied between Reigate and Crawley sped by without their noticing it, so that they reached the latter village when they thought that they had but just cleared the outskirts of Red Hill.