I do not know the names of my fellow-passengers.  Now and then one would bend forward and whisper to his neighbour, who answered with a grunt or a motion of his head; but for the most part, and for mile after mile, we all sat silent, listening only to the horses’ gallop, the chime of the swingle-bars, the hum of the night wind in our ears.  The motion and the strong breeze together lulled me little by little into a doze.  My neighbour on the right wore around his shoulders a woollen shawl, against which after a while I found my cheek resting, and begged his pardon.  He entreated me not to mention it, but to make myself comfortable; and thereupon I must have fallen fast asleep.  I awoke as the coach came to a standstill.  Were we pulling up to change teams?  No; we were on the dark high-road, between hedges.  Straight ahead of us blazed two carriage-lamps; and a man’s voice was hailing.  I recognized the voice at once.  It belonged to a Mr. Jack Rogers, a rory-tory young squire and justice of the peace of our neighbourhood, and the lamps must be those of his famous light tilbury.

“Hallo!” he was shouting.  “Royal Mail, ahoy!”

“Royal Mail it is!” shouted back the coachman and Jim the guard together.

“Got the boy Brooks aboard?”

“Ay, ay Mr. Rogers!  D’ye want him?”

“No; you’ll take him along quicker.  My mare’s fagged, and I drove along in case the letter missed fire.”  He came forward at a foot’s pace, and pulled up under the light of our lamps.  “Hallo! is that you, Harry Brooks?” He peered up at me out of the night.

“Yes, sir,” I answered, my teeth chattering between apprehension and the chill of the night.  I longed desperately to ask what had happened at home, but the words would not come.

“Right you are, my lad; and the first thing when you get home, tell Miss Plinlimmon from me to fill you up with vittles and a glass of hot brandy-and-water.  Give her that message, with Jack Rogers’s compliments, and tell her that I’m on the road making inquiries, and may get so far as Truro.  By the way”—­he turned to Jim the guard—­ “you haven’t met anything that looked suspicious, eh?”

“Nothing on the road at all,” answered Jim.

“Well, so-long!  Mustn’t delay his Majesty’s mails or waste time of my own.  Good night, Harry Brooks, and remember to give my message!  Good night, gentlemen all!”

He flicked at his mare.  Our coachman gathered up his reins, and away we went once more at a gallop towards the dawn.  The dawn lay cold about Minden Cottage as we came in sight of it; and at first, noting that all the blinds were drawn, I thought the household must be asleep.  Then I remembered, and shivered as I rose from my seat, cramped and stiff from the long journey, and so numb that Jim the guard had to lift me down to the porch.  Miss Plinlimmon, red-eyed and tremulous, opened the door to me, embraced me, and led me to the little parlour.