'You'll be hanged if you won't,' Sir George said in a changed tone; and
he laughed contemptuously. 'Hanged by the neck until you are dead, Mr.
Dunborough--if money can bring it about. You fool,' he continued, with a
sudden flash of the ferocity that had from the first underlain his
sarcasm, 'we have got enough from your own lips to hang you, and if more
be wanted, your people will peach on you. You have put your neck into
the halter, and there is only one way, if one, in which you can take it
out. Think, man; think before you speak again,' he continued savagely,
'for my patience is nearly at an end, and I would sooner see you hang
than not. And look you, leave your reins alone, for if you try to turn,
by G--d, I'll shoot you like the dog you are!' Whether he thought the advice good or bad, Mr. Dunborough took it; and
there was a long silence. In the distance the hoof-beats of the
servant's horse, approaching from the direction of Chippenham, broke the
stillness of the moonlit country; but round the three men who sat
motionless in their saddles, glaring at one another and awaiting the
word for action, was a kind of barrier, a breathlessness born of
expectation. At length Dunborough spoke.
'What do you want?' he said in a low tone, his voice confessing his
defeat. 'If she is not here, I do not know where she is.' 'That is for you,' Sir George answered with a grim coolness that
astonished Mr. Fishwick. 'It is not I who will hang if aught happen
to her.' Again there was silence. Then in a voice choked with rage Mr. Dunborough
cried, 'But if I do not know?' 'The worse for you,' said Sir George. He was sorely tempted to put the
muzzle of a pistol to the other's head and risk all. But he fancied that
he knew his man, and that in this way only could he be effectually
cowed; and he restrained himself.
'She should be here--that is all I know. She should have been here,' Mr.
Dunborough continued sulkily, 'at eight.' 'Why here?' 'The fools would not take her through Chippenham without me. Now you
know.' 'It is ten, now.' 'Well, curse you,' the younger man answered, flaring up again, 'could I
help it if my horse fell? Do you think I should be sitting here to be
rough-ridden by you if it were not for this?' He raised his right arm,
or rather his shoulder, with a stiff movement; they saw that the arm was
bound to his side. 'But for that she would be in Bristol by now,' he
continued disdainfully, 'and you might whistle for her. But, Lord, here
is a pother about a college-wench!' 'College-wench, sir?' the lawyer cried scarcely controlling his
indignation. 'She is Sir George Soane's cousin. I'd have you know that!' 'And my promised wife,' Sir George said, with grim-ness.