Among other wayfarers who, on a certain evening some four months subsequently to the events already narrated, halted at the King\'s Arms Hotel, Appleford, in order to refresh the inner man, was a stranger on horseback, with a rather bulky saddle-bag strapped behind him, who, judging from his style and appearance, might have been a cattle jobber on his way to some fair, or farm bailiff, a "statesman" who farmed his own acres, and had a comfortable little balance at the local bank; or, at any rate, a man used to a healthy, outdoor country life, to whom existence in a town would have been nothing less than intolerable.

Having dismounted from his very serviceable nag, he gave it into the ostler\'s charge, with strict injunctions that it was to be well cared for, and then made for the coffee-room, where, five minutes later, he was seated with a noble cold sirloin before him, and at his elbow a tankard of the best old ale the house could supply.

He was a prime trencherman, was John Dyce--they were common enough in those days--and it would have made a modern dyspeptic stare to watch the heroic way in which he attacked the sirloin, and with what unequivocal appetite one well-mustarded slice after another, with its accompaniment of delicious home-made bread, was disposed of. But not even John could go on eating forever, and by and by he laid down his knife and fork with an audible sigh, which might be partly due to the satisfaction which comes--or should come--of comfortable repletion, and partly a sigh of regret at having to bid farewell to the sirloin. While the waiter cleared away he went as far as the stable in order to satisfy himself that his nag was being properly looked after. He was gone some little time, and when he came back he ordered a churchwarden pipe, a screw of tobacco, and a tumbler of cold punch to be brought him.

There were some half-dozen people in the room who had been there when he arrived, and a number of others had come and gone in the interim. Now and then a bell would be heard to ring somewhere indoors, now and then a chaise or other vehicle would rattle up to the door and come to an abrupt stand. The Highflyer coach, going south, had stopped for exactly three minutes and a half in order to change horses, during which time a majority of the passengers had crowded into the hotel, clamoring for drinks of various kinds.

John Dyce, sitting apart in a quiet corner of the long, oak-panelled, low-ceilinged room, and puffing meditatively at his churchwarden, had a quietly observant eye for every fresh face that came in. At length--but not till his glance had travelled more than once, with some anxiety in it, to the clock over the chimney-piece--his waiting was rewarded.

The coffee-room door opened, and there entered a little, comfortable-looking, rosy-gilled man, in whose features professional gravity seemed to be struggling against a latent sense of humor. He was Mr. Tew, managing clerk to Mr. Piljoy, solicitor of Arkrigg, a town at the other end of the county. His employer being laid up with gout, he had been sent to Stanbrook in his stead in order to get Squire Cortelyon\'s will duly signed and witnessed. Having accomplished his errand, he was now on his way back home, with the will carefully buttoned up inside his breast pocket. Squire Cortelyon was not expected to live from hour to hour.

"Bottle-green surtout with black velvet collar," muttered John Dyce to himself. "Front tooth broken short off; red and black silk muffler round his throat; white beaver hat the worse for wear. It must be him."

Mr. Tew beckoned the waiter.

"Ham and eggs and a cup of strong coffee; and let me have them as quick as possible. I must be on the road again in half an hour."

"\'Am-an\'-eggs--yessir--have \'em in a jiffy. Going far, sir, to-night, may I ask?"

"Only as far as Arkrigg."

"A dozen long miles, sir, and as nasty a bit o\' road as any in the county, being nearly all up-hill and windin\' in an\' out among the moors--let alone its bein\' such a favorite road with Captain Nightshade." Then, insinuatingly: "Better stay where you are, sir. Could put you up very comfortable. His Grace of Malvern stayed with us a night last month, and before goin\' away he says, says he----"

"No, no," broke in Mr. Tew good-naturedly--waiters in our great-grandfathers\' days were often privileged mortals--"it\'s not a bit of use your trying to tempt me. Home to-night I must get--highly important; and as for Captain Nightshade, he flies at higher game than the likes of me. If he were to strip me to the shirt, all I have would hardly fetch him the price of a decent dinner and a bottle of wine. So now for my ham and eggs."

Not a word of all this had escaped John Dyce, but his stolid face was absolutely devoid of expression. He had changed his position to the settle near the chimney-corner, and was sitting with one hand buried deep in his breeches pocket, while the other held his long pipe, his gaze meanwhile being contemplatively fixed on a corner of the well-smoked ceiling.

He had already paid his "shot," and he now put down his pipe, stood up, yawned, stretched himself, and then, after clapping his hat on his head, strode slowly out of the room. Passing the bar, now empty of customers, through the inner window of which he could see the plump landlady busy with her knitting-needles, he paused for a few moments at the top of the flight of broad shallow steps which led up to the front door. Like so many similar establishments in those days, the King\'s Arms Hotel formed three sides of a quadrangle, with the windows facing, into it, the fourth side consisting of an open gateway large enough for a coach-and-four to be driven through with ease, having shops on either side, the windows of which fronted on the main street.

As John Dyce stood on the topmost step he looked to right and he looked to left. For a small provincial town the hour was growing late. In the inn yard no one was about. A light shone dimly through the stable window, and in one corner Mr. Tew\'s chaise, with two or three other vehicles, made a confused heap, dimly discernible. Half an hour later, with the arrival of the Comet, bound for Edinburgh, the whole place would wake up, as at the stroke of an enchanter\'s wand, to a brief spasm of feverish energy and excitement. Meanwhile somnolence reigned.

John Dyce, whistling under his breath, descended the steps and picked his way slowly in the direction of the stable, presumably in search of the ostler; but it was not till a full quarter of an hour later that he rode out of the inn yard, and, having crossed the market-place, took the road which led due north out of the town. The clock of the old church chimed the half-hour past ten as he left it behind. A crescent moon was sailing in a clear sky.

Presently John\'s nag broke into a gentle trot, and so the two jogged quietly along till the last house in Appleford had been left some four miles behind. Then, at a point where the road, dipping a little, cut through the dark heart of a plantation of firs, he drew rein and let his horse subside into a walk. He had got about half-way through the plantation when, a little way ahead of him, what looked like an irregular fragment of the blackness which walled him in on either hand broke itself away, as it were, and, moving out into the middle of the road, showed there clear and distinct by the light of the young moon, and then, as he drew a pace or two nearer, took on itself the shape of another horse and another rider.

John seemed in nowise alarmed by the sudden apparition, but rather, indeed, as if the rencontre was not unexpected by him.

"So! it is you; I was rather doubtful at first," said the other in a full rich voice as he drew near. "Well, what luck have you had?"

As well as could be seen, the speaker was a young and very handsome man, with an unmistakable air of distinction. His outer garment was a long, loose, dark blue cloak without sleeves, fastened at the throat by a silver clasp, which hid the rest of his attire except his long riding boots and his small three-cornered hat. His dark hair, the real color of which could not be distinguished by that light, was slightly sprinkled with powder and tied up behind with black ribbon into the form of an ample queue. His hands were covered by a pair of buff gauntlets, and from the holsters in front of him the stocks of a brace of pistols bulged menacingly.

John Dyce carried a finger to his forehead as his nag came to halt. "Everything gone off all right, your honor," he said in reply to the young man\'s question. "I left Mr. Tew at the King\'s Arms in Appleford. He\'d just ordered his supper, but seemed in a hurry to get on, and I should say that by this time he\'s nearly ready to start again, so that your honor\'s wait for him shouldn\'t be a long one. Before coming away I managed, unseen by anybody, to draw the charges of his pistols, which he had left behind him in the chaise when he went in to supper."

"Well done, John! There\'s far more in that head of years than most people give you credit for. But now you must leave me. I will await Mr. Tew here. I don\'t think I could find a more convenient bit of road for my purpose than this. You will wait for me, as arranged, at the first toll-bar on the Whinbarrow road."

"Better not send me away, your honor," said John in a tone of earnest entreaty; "better let me keep with you, or, at least, be within hail in case of accident."

"No, no, John, I won\'t have you mixed up in the affair more than is absolutely necessary. There\'s nothing to fear--more especially now that you have drawn the charges of the pistols. But, at the best of times, I don\'t believe Mr. Tew has an ounce of courage in that plump, well-lined body of his. More likely than not he will take me for Captain Nightshade, and be all a-quake with fright. So you must just do as you are bidden, and make the best of your way to the place agreed upon. And remember, I forbid you on any account to wait about here."

John attempted no further protest, knowing, probably, how futile it would have been, but wheeling his nag round, without a word more started off down the road at a gentle trot.

The young man waited without stirring till the last thud of his horse\'s hoofs had died into silence. Then he shivered--the night was bitter enough to excuse his doing so--and drew his cloak more closely around him; and then he glanced about him, somewhat timorously it might have been thought.

"Pish! what folly is this!" he muttered peevishly. "A gentleman of the road, a despoiler of timid travellers, shivering and shaking because he finds himself alone, drawing on for midnight, on a solitary bit of the King\'s highway! I shall be frightened of my own shadow next. Captain Nightshade would indeed laugh me to scorn."

He patted his mare on the neck and began to walk her up and down on the narrow stretch of turf which fringed the road on either hand. It was not one of the great thoroughfares running north and south, busy day and night with traffic in one or other of its manifold forms, but merely a by-road between one provincial town and another. The only living things seen by our young horseman while he waited were a drove of cattle, in charge of a couple of men, on their way to Appleford market. While they were passing he withdrew into the shade of the plantation.

After all, he had hardly so long to wait as he had feared he would have. John Dyce had not been more than a quarter of an hour gone when his straining ears caught the faint sound of wheels. He had already adjusted the crape mask he had brought with him, and settled his chin in the ample folds of the India silk muffler he had tied round his throat. He now set his hat more firmly on his head, and drew a pistol from its holster.

And now, some distance down the road, there shone two yellow points of flame, as they might be the eyes of some wild animal shining in the dark. They were the lamps of the coming chaise. Nearer and nearer sounded the hoof-beats of the horses on the hard road. A minute more and the whole concern had passed out of the moonlight into the gully of blackness in which our horseman was lurking. The moment for action had come. Three strides of his horse brought him into a line with the postilion. "Halt, or you are a dead man!" he called out in commanding tones, as he held a pistol to the man\'s head, and at once the horses were pulled up short on their haunches. It was not the first command of the kind that postilion had been called upon to obey.

The highwayman had brought no lantern with him. He knew, or thought he knew, quite well who the occupant of the chaise was. He could just discern a vague huddled-up figure in one corner. And now, in no uncertain voice, came the formula, sacred by long use on such occasions: "Your money or your life!" Not that it was the traveller\'s money our young friend was risking so much to obtain, but something very different, only he had not seen his way at the moment to vary the customary command.

The answer was a flash and a report from the interior of the chaise, and the same instant a harsh voice yelled out, "Drive on Tim, and be damned to you!" Hardly had the words left his lips before the post-boy\'s lash came down heavily on his horses, and the chaise sprang forward.

Unused to such surprises, the young man\'s horse shied violently and then backed towards the plantation, as if its rider had lost control of it. What would have happened next there is no telling, had not another horse and rider, springing from nowhere, as it seemed, appeared at this instant on the scene. Our would-be highwayman, his hat fallen off and his head thrown back, was swaying in his saddle, and the newcomer was only just in time to grasp him round the waist, and so save him from falling.

A few seconds later he gave vent to a low whistle, expressive of an amazement almost too deep for words.

"By the Lord that made me--a woman!" was his whispered ejaculation.