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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"Peregrine's Progress"

But
Wildfire, snorting scorn on all hills and this in particular, never so
much as checked or faltered in his long stride and thus we approached
the lumbering chaise rapidly.
We were close upon it when once again the head projected itself from
the window, but now the face was turned towards me, and in these
features I seemed to read a very lively apprehension, nay, as I drew
nearer, I saw above the bushy, scowling brows the gleam of sweat; but
on I came with loosened rein, heedless of the gentleman's threatening
look and wondering at his very evident perturbation; and now I saw
that he grasped something half-hidden in the fold of his coat that
bulked remarkably like a pistol. But all at once, as he peered at me
through the rolling smother of dust, his apprehensive expression
vanished and, next moment, his head also, and as I drew level with the
chaise, I saw him leaning back in one corner, the pistol upon his
knees, and in the other corner the form of a woman wrapped in a
pelisse and heavily veiled and who, judging by her posture, seemed
asleep.
It was but a glimpse I caught of the interior and then I was by, had
reached the summit of the hill and was galloping down the descent, but
even so it seemed to me that the gentleman's face was vaguely
familiar.
Mile upon mile I held on at this wild speed until Anthony and his
sorrel had diminished to a faint, oncoming dust-cloud and Wildfire
began to abate his ardour somewhat; as he breasted a long and steep
ascent crowned by a hostelry, I, blinking at it through dust-whitened
lashes, saw it bore a sign with the words: The Porto Bello Inn.


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