"Curse them! They've managed to break down!" exclaimed Marriott. His
hand trembled a little as he let down the window, and it seemed to
Barbara that he was more afraid than angry. He thrust his head out of
the window with an oath, then drew it in sharply. A horseman stood at
the door with a pistol in his hand.
"There is payment to make for crossing the heath."
The judge broke out into a torrent of abuse, but whether at the man who
barred his way or at himself for being unprepared, it was difficult to
say.
"And the payment is extra for cursing your luck, especially in the
presence of a lady," said the man sharply, in a tone which admitted no
argument and proved him master of the situation.
Barbara, sitting upright, looked steadily into the masked face of the
highwayman, deeply interested, but without fear. Was it fancy, or was
there a familiar note in the man's voice? Marriott had shrunk back in
the coach as he fumbled for his purse. He tried to conceal his face from
the man, for, should the highwayman discover his identity, he might
consider the moment opportune to avenge his brother of the road who had
so recently died at Tyburn.
Pages:
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42