The load was so heavy that at first five horses were used, but we left one with his postillion at the top of the hill and swung down at a canter into the level country.  The snow lay fairly deep, and the horses’ hoofs were soundless as we plunged through the crisp and tingling air.  The wind raced past me as I sat perched on my rickety seat, swaying wildly with every lurch of the coach.  With every gust I seemed to drink in fresh strength and felt the very motion and swiftness enter into my blood.  Across the white waste we tore, up a stiff ascent and down across the moorland again—­still westward; and now across the stretches of the moor I could catch the strong scent of the sea upon the wind.  Along the level we sped, silent and swift beneath the moon.  Here a white house by the roadside glimmered out and was gone; there a mine-chimney shot up against the sky and faded back again.  We were going now at a gallop, and from my perch I could see the yellow light of the lamps on the sweating necks of the leaders.

There was a company of sailors with me on the coach-top—­smoking, talking, and shouting.  Once or twice one of them would address a word or two to me, but got scanty answers.  I was looking intently along the road for a sign of Colliver’s carriage.  He must have ordered good horses, for I saw no sign of him as yet.  Stay!  As we swept round a sharp corner and swung on to the straight road again, I thought I spied far in front a black object moving on the universal white.  Yes, it must be he:  and again on the wings of the wind I heard the call, “To-night! to-night!  Kill him! kill him! kill—­”

Crash!  With a heavy and sickening lurch sideways, the coach hung for an instant, tottered, and then plunged over on its side, flinging me clear of the luggage which pounded and rattled after.  As I struggled to my feet, half dazed, I saw a confused medley of struggling horses, frightened passengers and scattered boxes.  Collecting my senses I rushed to help those inside the coach and then amid the moaning, cursing and general dismay, sought out my bundle, grasped it tightly and set off at a run down the heavy road.  I could wait now for no man.

Panting, spent, my sore limbs weighted with snow, I gained the top of the hill and plunged down the steep street into Helston.  There, at “the Angel” I got a post-chaise and pair, and set off once more.  At first, seeing my dress and wondering what a sailor could want with post-chaises at that hour, they demurred, but the money quickly persuaded them.  They told me also that a gentleman had changed horses there about half an hour before and gone towards the Lizard, after borrowing a pickaxe and spade.  Half an hour:  should I yet be in time?

I leant back in the chaise and pondered.  I knew by heart the shortest cuts across the downs.  When I reached them I would stop the carriage and take to my feet once more.  The fresh horses were travelling fast, and as we drew near the sea I dimly noted a hundred familiar landmarks, and in each a fresh memory of Tom.  How affectionately we had taken leave of them, one by one, on our journey to London!  Now each seemed to cry, “What have you done with your friend?” This was my home-coming.