Thus, between good horses and bad, live
postilions and lethargic, smooth roads and rough, we fared on the
whole rather well than ill, and felt but the smallest apprehension of
being caught. To speak metaphorically, the coast of France was already
in our sight.
At the end of the first stage, we had breakfasted upon eggs and beer.
We took an early dinner at Tunbridge Wells, and proceeded through
Sussex. 'Twas well forward in the afternoon, and we were already
preparing our eyes, faces, and nostrils for the refreshing intimation
of the sea, when our ears notified us of a vehicle following in our
wake. Looking back, at a bend of the road, we saw it was a conveyance
similar to our own, and that the postilions were whipping the horses
to their utmost speed. "Whoever rides there," said I, "has paid or
promised well for haste."
"'Tis strange there should be other folk bound in a hurry for Hastings
this same day," replied Phil.
We looked at one another, with the same thought.
"Their post-boys seem to be watching our chaise as much as anything
else," I remarked. "To be sure, they can't know 'tis you and I."
"No, but if they _were_ in quest of us, they would try to overtake
this chaise or any other on the road. Ho, postilion!--an extra crown
apiece for yourselves if you leave those fellows yonder behind for
good." And Phil added quietly to me: "It won't do to offer 'em too
much at first--'twould make 'em suspicious.
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