And now I was seized with a passion of haste and began to shout
fevered orders at our postboy.
"Hurry--hurry! A guinea--ten guineas for your best speed! Drive, man,
drive like the devil. Whip--spur!"
I remember tossing money to a hoarse-voiced toll-keeper in a fur cap,
and we were off in full career, the light chaise rocking and swaying.
I remember Anthony's look of surprise and my answering his
half-hearted questions at random or not at all, for now I rode, my
head out-thrust from the window, hearkening for the sound of galloping
hoofs ahead of us.
And so at last, after an eternity as it seemed, the chaise slowed
again and came to an abrupt standstill before a dimly-seen building
and, peering out, I made out the sign:
THE ANCHOR INN.
Next moment I had sprung out into the road and, not waiting for
Anthony, hastened into the place, opened a door at random, and found
myself in a small room where smoked a miserable fire over which
lounged two languid gentlemen well coated and muffled against the
chill of dawn.
"Sirs," said I, acknowledging their bows, "pray have you seen two
horsemen pass lately?"
"Horsemen, sir?" repeated a dashing gentleman who seemed all whiskers,
teeth and greatcoat. "'Pon my honour, no--stop a bit--yes, I did! They
rode towards Maidstone, I fancy, sir."
"Did they stop to make any enquiries--either of them?"
"Stop, sir? No, sir--devil a bit!" answered the gentleman, flashing
his teeth and shaking his whiskers to such a degree that I doubted him
on the spot.
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