At the end of the first stage, we had breakfasted upon eggs and beer.  We took an early dinner at Tunbridge Wells, and proceeded through Sussex.  ’Twas well forward in the afternoon, and we were already preparing our eyes, faces, and nostrils for the refreshing intimation of the sea, when our ears notified us of a vehicle following in our wake.  Looking back, at a bend of the road, we saw it was a conveyance similar to our own, and that the postilions were whipping the horses to their utmost speed.  “Whoever rides there,” said I, “has paid or promised well for haste.”

“’Tis strange there should be other folk bound in a hurry for Hastings this same day,” replied Phil.

We looked at one another, with the same thought.

“Their post-boys seem to be watching our chaise as much as anything else,” I remarked.  “To be sure, they can’t know ’tis you and I.”

“No, but if they were in quest of us, they would try to overtake this chaise or any other on the road.  Ho, postilion!—­an extra crown apiece for yourselves if you leave those fellows yonder behind for good.”  And Phil added quietly to me:  “It won’t do to offer ’em too much at first—­’twould make ’em suspicious.”

“But,” quoth I, as our men put their horses to the gallop.  “How the devil could any one have got so soon upon our track?”

“Why, Idsleigh may have turned informer, in his own interest—­he was in a devilish difficult position—­and men would be sent with our descriptions to the post-houses.  ’Tis merely possible.  Or our hackney-coachman may have guessed something, and dogged me to the Strand, and informed.  If they found where we started, of course they could track us from stage to stage.  ’Tis best to be safe—­though I scarce think they’re in our pursuit.”

“Egad, they’re in somebody’s!” I cried.  “Their postilions are shouting to ours to stop.”

“Never mind those fellows’ holloing,” called Philip to our riders.  “’Tis a wager—­and I’ll double that crown apiece.”

We bowled over the road in a way to make me think of Apollo’s chariot and the horses of Phaeton; but we lengthened not a rod the stretch betwixt us and our followers, though we nullified their efforts to diminish it.  We could make out, more by sight than by hearing—­for we kept looking back, our heads thrust out at either side—­that the pursuing post-boys continued bawling vehemently at ours.  What they said, was drowned by the clatter of horses and wheels.

“Well, they have seen we are two men,” said Philip, “and still they keep up the race.  They certainly must want us.  Were they merely in a hurry to reach Hastings, they could do that the sooner by sparing their horses—­this is a killing pace.”

“Then we’re in a serious plight,” said I.  “Though we may beat ’em to Hastings, they will catch us there.”

“Unless we can gain a quarter of an hour’s start, and, by one chance in twenty, find the Doughty boys ashore, and their boat in harbour.”