“Come with me, my lord, come with me!” cried the landlord, bursting into energy in a moment.  “I know who you are well enough.  But they shan’t catch you here, I warrant you.  Come into the stable:  there’s not a minute to be lost; for there’s old Sir John Bulrush, and Parson Jeffreys, who’s a magistrate too, drinking away up at the rectory till the people come back from Plessis’s house.”  Berwick lingered not; but taking a quick leave of Lady Laura, and shaking Wilton’s hand, he followed the landlord from the room.  Laura and Wilton stood silent for a minute or two, listening to every sound, and calculating how long it might be before the horse was saddled and the Duke upon his way.  Before they imagined it possible, however, the landlord returned, saying, in a low voice, but with an air of joyful triumph, “He is gone; and if they were after him this minute, the way through my garden gives him the start by half a mile.”

“And now, landlord,” said Wilton, “send off some one on horseback to get us a conveyance from Stroud to carry this young lady on the way to London.  I suppose such a thing is not to be procured here.”

“That there is not,” replied the landlord; “and unless I send your horse, sir, or the Messenger’s, or the Captain’s, I have none to go.”

“Send mine, then, send mine!” replied Wilton.  “But here comes Captain Byerly himself, bringing us news, doubtless.”

“No news,” answered Byerly, “except that the rascal went up the street, and I followed him to the door of the parsonage.  Your parson’s a magistrate—­isn’t he, Wicks?”

The landlord gave a nod; and Byerly continued, “By Jove, I’ll be off then, for I’m not fond of magistrates, and he’ll be down here soon.”

“You had better bid them bring down a chaise for the gentleman and lady from Stroud,” said the landlord.  “That will save me from sending some one on the gentleman’s horse.”

“No, no, landlord, no, no!” answered Byerly, “you are not up to a stratagem.  Send your ostler with me on Mr. Brown’s horse.  We’ll go clattering along the street like the devil, if we can but get off before the justices comedown, and they’ll take it into their wise noddles that one of us is the gentleman who has just gone.  Come, Wicks, there’s no time to spare.  We shall meet again, Mr. Brown; good night, good night.  I shall tell the Colonel that we’ve done the business much more tidily than I could have expected.”  And without further ceremony he quitted the room.

Another pause ensued, during which but a few words passed between Wilton and Lady Laura, who sat gazing thoughtfully into the fire.  Wilton stood by the window and listened, thinking he heard some distant sounds as of persons speaking, and loud tongues at the further end of the street.  A minute after, however, there came the clatter of horses’ feet upon the pavement of the yard; and in another instant Byerly’s voice was heard, saying, “Come, put to your spurs,” and two horses galloped away from the inn as hard as they could go.