them.

The night was moonless, yet sufficiently clear for objects to
be perceived against the sky, and presently the black shadow of
him who rode behind loomed up upon the road, not a hundred
paces off.

Despite Cynthia's orders not to fire, he of the musketoon
raised his weapon under cover of the darkness and blazed at the
approaching shadow.

Cynthia cried out - a shriek of dismay it was; the horses
plunged, and Sir Crispin laughed aloud as he bore down upon
them. He of the musketoon heard the swish of a sword being
drawn, and saw the glitter of the blade in the dark. A second
later there was a shock as Crispin's horse dashed into his, and
a crushing blow across the forehead, which Galliard delivered
with the hilt of his rapier, sent him hurtling from the saddle.
His comrade clapped spurs to his horse at that and was running
a race with the night wind in the direction of Denham.

Before Cynthia quite knew what had happened the seat on the
pillion in front of her was empty, and she was riding back to
Stafford with Crispin beside her, his hand upon the bridle of
her horse.

"You little fool!" he said half-angrily, half-gibingly; and
thereafter they rode in silence - she too mortified with shame
and anger to venture upon words.