Striding along in the gathering dusk, he came suddenly upon a curious
scene. A heavy traveling carriage was drawn half across the road, its
forewheels perilously near the ditch. Near by was a lady, standing with
arms stiff and hands clenched, stamping her foot as she addressed, in no
measured terms, two men who were rolling over one another in a desperate
tussle a few yards away on the heath. As Desmond drew nearer he perceived
that a second and younger lady stood at the horses' heads, grasping the
bridles firmly with both hands.

His footsteps were unheard on the heavy road, and the elder lady's back
being towards him, he came up to her unawares. She started with a little
cry when she saw a stranger move towards her out of the gloom. But
perceiving at a second glance that he was only a boy, with nothing
villainous about his appearance, she turned to him impulsively and,
taking him by the sleeve, said:

"There! You see them! The wretches! They are drunk and pay no heed to me!
Can you part them? I do not wish to be benighted on this heath. The
wretch uppermost is the coachman."

"I might part them, perhaps," said Desmond dubiously. "Of course I will
try, ma'am."

"Sure I wouldn't trust 'em, mamma," called the younger lady from the
horses' heads. "The man is too drunk to drive."

"I fear 'tis so. 'Tis not our own man, sir. As we returned today from a
visit to Taplow our coachman was trampled by a horse at Slough, and my
husband stayed with him--an old and trusty servant--till he could consult
a surgeon. We found a substitute at the inn to drive us home. But the