Roger rode on and Marion held a trembling hand to Sampson, her eyes shining through tears. As she trotted away Sampson called: Where is Simone?

Marion stayed a second to answer. With my Aunt Keziah in Exeter. There was a reply from Sampson she failed to understand. She broke into a canter and the roan and the grey were lost to sight. The lane ended abruptly in open land, and the track curved down along the flank of the hill. Just as they bore round, the fugitives turned once more and caught the gleam of the uniforms half way down the lane.

! said Roger. We can see them because of their colour, but tis unlikely they can have seen us since we left the open land.

Side by side the two tore along the track, Marion bringing to bear on her horse the extreme pressure which so far had been unnecessary. Except when the nature of the track compelled, the two did not relax their speed until Liskeard was reached. Midday struck from the steeple as they rode through the town.

They broke into a gallop again, keeping a ceaseless watch for their pursuers. It was touch and go now. The land was so uneven that they could not see the track for more than half a mile at a time. At any moment the soldiers might gallop round the last hummock.

No words passed between the two, until, half an hour later, Marion suddenly pulled up, her eyes dim. She looked about.

I remember that hill, she said tremulously, and through yonder gap on a fine day we should see the sea. Oh Roger! we are nearly there!

Roger looked over his shoulder. That mysterious Colonel of yours is a clever man. You must tell me some day how he did it. There, at that clump of trees, we turn off for a smugglers bridle path. I know it well. It runs down to the coast and spares the hill outside Garth. If no one sees us for the next five minutes we are safe threat of vengeance she passed by in contempt..

Marion followed Roger, and leaving the grey to pick his own footing, fixed her eye on the backward track till a copse of wind-blown oaks hid it from their view. The path wound perilously down a stony gully, difficult to ride save for the moorland-bred. The wind was wearing away, a steady fine rain falling in place of the gusts and clamour of the morning. The realisation that the end of the perilous journey was in sight was slowly dawning on the girls shaken senses. Another couple of miles, and they would sight the cottages and banks of Garth.

A few minutes later Roger slowed his horse and waited for her. The track had fallen to the river bed, and there was room for the two to ride side by side. Roger looked keenly at the girls face.

Do you know, said he, we have ridden all this time and I have not said a word of all that is in my mind. Somehow twas enough to have you by my side and be riding to freedom. Nothing else matters. And now in a few minutes we shall be at the village. Mawfy, I cannot,—I—my mind is fevered. To say thank you to some one who has saved your life sounds like foolishness.