superb way, disagreeable if Harry were not in waiting when he was wanted
to take a hand at ombre. Harry liked Mr. Waverton well enough, as well as
he liked anybody, but found him in the part of offended majesty
intolerable. So there was some hard walking back to Whetstone. On the way
his temper was not sweetened by two horsemen at the gallop who gave him a
shower-bath of mud.

As he came through the village, behold another coach labouring up to the
high road from Totteridge lane. This had but four horses, no array of
outriders, no gilt splendours. It was a sober, old-fashioned thing, and
it rumbled on at a sober gait. "Some city ma'am," Harry sneered at it,
"much the same shape as her horses."

But half an hour after he saw it again. Where the road was dark through a
thicket it had come to a stand. "Oh Lud," said Harry, "here's more fair
madames in the mud. They may sit on it till they hatch it for me." But he
wondered a little. It was indeed nothing very strange in such an autumn
to find a coach stuck upon the highway. But two for one afternoon, two so
near was a generous provision. And hereabouts, where the road ran level
and high, was a strange place for a coach to choose to stick. "Madame
seems to be a gross girl," quoth Harry.

And then he saw what made him step out. There were two men on horseback
by the halted coach--two men with black upon their faces which must be
masks, and that in their hands which must be pistols.

"Egad, the road's joyful to-night," said Harry. "And two and one make
three," and he began to run, and arrived.

Of the two highwaymen one was dismounted. The other, holding his friend's