“Are you hurt?” panted my companion.

“No,” said I, “but it was a very excellent shot nevertheless!” For, as I picked up my hat, I saw a small round hole that pierced it through and through, midway between crown and brim.

The lane wound away between high hedges, which rendered our going very dark, for the moon was getting low, and difficult by reason of the deep wheel-ruts; but we hurried forward notwithstanding, urged on by the noise of the chase.  We had traversed some half mile thus, when my ears warned me that our pursuers were gaining upon us, and I was inwardly congratulating myself that I had stopped to find my staff, and wondering how much execution such a weapon might reasonably be capable of, when I found that my companion was no longer at my side.  As I paused, irresolute, her voice reached me from the shadow of the hedge.

“This way,” she panted.

“Where?” said I.

“Here!” and, as she spoke, her hand slipped into mine, and so she led me through a small gate, into a broad, open meadow beyond.  But to attempt crossing this would be little short of madness, for (as I pointed out) we could not go a yard without being seen.

“No, no,” she returned, her breath still laboring, “wait—­wait till they are past.”  And so, hand in hand, we stood there in the shadow, screened very effectively from the lane by the thick hedge, while the rush of our pursuers’ feet drew nearer and nearer; until we could hear a voice that panted out curses upon the dark lane, ourselves, and everything concerned; at sound of which my companion seemed to fall into a shivering fit, her clasp tightened upon my hand, and she drew closer to me.  Thus we remained until voices and footsteps had grown faint with distance, but, even then, I could feel that she was trembling still.  Suddenly she drew her fingers from mine, and covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, that man!” she exclaimed, in a whisper, “I didn’t quite realize till now—­what I have escaped.  Oh, that beast!”

“Sir Harry Mortimer?” said I.

“You know him?” she cried.

“Heaven forbid!” I answered, “but I have seen him once before at ‘The Chequers’ inn at Tonbridge, and I never forget names or faces—­especially such as his.”

“How I hate him!” she whispered.

“An unpleasant animal, to be sure,” said I.  “But come, it were wiser to get as far from here as possible, they will doubtless be returning soon.”

So we started off again, running in the shadow of the hedge.  We had thus doubled back upon our pursuers, and, leaving the tavern upon our left, soon gained the kindly shadow of those woods through which I had passed in the early evening.

Borne to us upon the gentle wind was the haunting perfume of hidden flowers, and the sinking moon sent long shafts of silvery light to pierce the leafy gloom, and make the shadows more mysterious.

The path we followed was very narrow, so that sometimes my companion’s knee touched mine, or her long, silken hair brushed my brow or cheek, as I stooped to lift some trailing branch that barred her way, or open a path for her through the leaves.