and requested that a mounted escort should be furnished for him with the minimum possible delay.
The Captain sobered up at once, and said: 'This is an infantry barracks, so normally I'd only be able to help you by asking some of the officers to turn out with their grooms. But 'tis your good fortune that we've been on manoeuvres recently, and a squadron of Dragoons are quartered here as our guests. Have the goodness to wait here a few moments and I'll fetch one of their officers. He is having the devil's own luck at the cards to-night, so you'll be doing us a favour, Sir, if you'll relieve us of him and prevent his further inroads on our pockets''
Again Roger had to submit to seeing a few more precious moments slip away. Then one of the big double doors of the ante-room opened again and the Captain returned, accompanied by a thick-set, red-faced young man with a crop of ginger curls. To Roger's amazement he found himself face to face with, his old enemy of Sherborne days, George Gunston.
Recognition was mutual for, at that second, Gunston cried: 'Why, damn my soul! If it isn't Bookworm Brook!'
Roger flushed slightly and replied: 'I have no time for exchanging compliments, but if you have a mind to it I will find plenty later on at any time and place you may suggest.'
'I see that you are already acquainted,' murmured the Captain, a trifle uneasily.
'By God! The fellow's challenging me!' exploded Gunston, going redder in the face than ever.
'Not at the moment,' said Roger sharply. 'The Captain, here, will have told you what's afoot. I am on the King's service and require a troop of horse to accompany me instantly. I pray you, Mr. Gunston, let our personal prejudices lie dormant for this night, at least; and give me your aid without demur.'
'On the King's service,' muttered Gunston, bringing his heels together with a click and bowing. 'So he it, Mr. Brook. Be pleased to come with me.'
Much as Roger disliked Gunston he had to admit that he was a good officer. Within twelve minutes he had his troop of Dragoons roused from their sleep, out of their barrack room and mounted. He gave a sharp word of command and, with Roger beside him, wheeled his horse. With the clatter of hooves and the jingling of sabres behind them, they trotted out of the barrack gates and took the London road.
Roger reckoned that his enforced delay to secure an escort had cost him a little over twenty minutes, so his enemy now had half an hour's lead over him again; but he* thought that with luck they might catch up with him before he reached Alton.
The road ahead lay through water meadows, and on their right meandered the river Itchin, in which Roger's father had occasionally taken him, while still a boy, to fish for the wily brown trout.
For the first mile or so they held their pace while Roger satisfied Gunston's curiosity as briefly as he decently could. Then, when he had described the foreigner that he was endeavouring to catch, Gunston shouted an order and the whole troop settled down to get the best out of their chargers.
For ten miles they rode hard, without exchanging a word, and, going at a steady canter, mounted the long slope that lies some way to the south of Alton. As they breasted its crest a mile of open country lay before them. Simultaneously Roger and George caught sight of a solitary horseman walking his horse half a mile ahead. The bright moonlight showed quite plainly that he was the man they were after. Even at that distance they could make out the lankiness of his figure, the heavy collared riding-coat and his truncated, steeple-crowned hat.
Having visualised just such a situation, Roger had intended that the troop should reduce its pace to a trot, ride up alongside the unsuspecting Frenchman as though about to pass him, halt, wheel and surround him; thus taking him prisoner before he even had a chance to attempt to escape.
But Lieutenant George Gunston had very different ideas. With the instinct of a bom fox-hunting squire he instantly rowelled his horse and gave vent to a loud: 'Tally ho! Tally ho! Tally ho!'
Taken completely by surprise Roger could only choke back his fury. His mount automatically leapt forward beside its companion, while the whole troop of Dragoons followed their excited officer with wild shouts of enthusiasm and glee.
The man ahead turned to throw one glance over his shoulder, then set spurs to his horse. The hunt was up, and there was nothing that Roger could do about it now but to crouch low over his mare's neck and attempt, with the rest, to ride down his quarry.
As he had foreseen the attempt was a failure. The Frenchman had too good a lead, and the road now sloped down towards some beech-woods. Urging his steed on to the grass at the side of the road he veered off to the right at a gallop and, a few minutes later, was lost to sight in the deep shadow of the woods.
After their ten miles at a pressing pace, and final mile-long burst of speed, the horses were now badly winded; and, as they reached the valley bottom where the thick beechwoods came right up to both sides of the road, Gunston threw up his hand to halt his men. Then, as the sweating horses stumbled to a standstill, he called in an aggrieved tone to Roger: 'Damme! The Frog has cheated us of our sport. He's gone to earth!'
'And whose fault is that?' snarled Roger, white with rage. 'You besotted oaf! What the hell did you expect, having given him ten minutes' warning?'
'Hey!' Gunston bellowed back. 'King's business or no, I'll not have anyone hold such language to me. I take you up in earnest now on your invitation to meet you at another time and place.'
Roger's hp curled. 'That suits me well. I've a long score to settle with you that I've not forgot. And God help you if you cannot use a sword or pistol better than you do your head.'
'We'll see about that,' Gunston snapped. 'Send me your seconds when your business in town is done; and I'll show you that I can use either as well as I do my fists. But since you are in command here at the moment, what are your wishes now that we have lost our man?'
'Please to remain here with your men, and have them scour the woods till dawn,' Roger replied coldly. 'I fear the odds are now very great against your making a find, but should you catch him take instant action to secure the document that he carries before he can destroy it; then bring him on to London. As I act under Naval orders 'twould be best if you deliver him and the paper to the Admiralty. I shall ride on alone, and if I have no luck, I will call there later in the day to learn if there is news of you.'
Swivelling his mare, Roger flogged the poor brute into a trot and rode on into Alton. Already, while galloping at a breakneck speed after the vanishing Frenchman, he had decided that if, through Gunston's folly, he lost his quarry, the best course would be for him to ride on as fast as possible. It was certain that his man would he up in the woods for a bit before venturing back on to the road, so by passing him while he hid and getting to the capital first there was still a chance that he might be headed off before he could reach the French Embassy.
At Alton Roger changed his exhausted mare for another bay and continued on, now through flatfish country, towards Farnham. The middle of the stage was about half-way between Lymington and London and he was already feeling the strain. Yet he dared not let up for a moment. He had never been to London and had no connections there upon whom he could call at a moment's notice. If his last card was to be of any value careful arrangements would have to be made for the playing of it and, as he would have to appeal for help to strangers, that would take time. He did not even know where the French Embassy was situated; and his man, now thoroughly alarmed, would probably approach it by a circuitous route, so he reckoned that if an effective ambush was to be organised he must reach the capital at least an hour ahead of his quarry.
He got to Farnham at three-thirty, changed his horse again and cantered up the slope on to the Hog's Back. The road now ran along the crest of a high ridge and the sinking moon lit a weird and splendid panorama of pine forests stretching away into the distance. But he had no eyes for it and swaying automatically with his mount pressed on to Guildford.
As his horse walked him up the steep high street of the old city he decided that, having covered two-thirds of his journey, he must rest for a while, at least. While his saddle was being changed to a piebald in the yard of the White Hart, he went inside and asked the serving man to bring him some coffee laced with rum. It seemed days ago since he had woken on the barque that morning, but he was thankful now that he had slept on till eleven o'clock. He was not feeling the least tired mentally, but his back and thighs were protesting strongly at the strain his sixty-mile ride had put upon them.
It was a quarter to five by the time he had drunk his coffee and two minutes later he was on his way to Cobham. To his intense annoyance the piebald proved an awkward brute, being one of those mounts that always seem reluctant to break cleanly from a trot to a canter and vice versa. The jolting he received during the ten-mile stretch took it out of him more than his hard ride with Gunston over a longer distance had done; and he was much relieved when he was able to change it at Cobham for the fourth bay that he had ridden that night.
The Ladies' Mile on to Esher offered him a good clear gallop, but by the time he reached Kingston he felt
