Turning
about, I saw a coach drawn by three horses, with a postilion on the
leader, approaching at a great rate, jolting and swaying in a
manner that bespoke desperate haste.
I stood aside to let it pass, holding my nose against the whirling
dust cloud it raised, and giving it but a glance as it rattled by.
The shutters were up; I could not see whether it held anybody; and
when it had passed I again took the middle of the road, wondering
idly what necessity there might be for so great speed. Only a
minute or two afterwards I heard a light patter close at my heels,
and looking back without stopping, I was surprised to see the big
black retriever which belonged to Mistress Lucy, and with which,
since my first meeting with him in the garden, I had been on
friendly terms. The dog uttered a low bark when he recognized me,
fawned upon me, and then set off running ahead. I noticed now that
the beast left a thin trail of blood on the ground. He had not run
far when he stopped, turned round, and barked as if to invite me
on, not waiting, however, to see whether I responded.
For a moment I was too much taken up with wondering by what mishap
the dog had been wounded to connect his appearance, and his evident
wish to urge me on, with the coach that had lately passed. But then
the connection struck upon me in a flash, and I began to run with
all my might. The dog had doubtless accompanied his mistress on her
morning ride; he could only have been wounded in defending her; she
must have been waylaid, and, thought linking itself with thought, I
guessed that Sir Richard Cludde had taken this means of asserting
his claim to her guardianship, and the man I had seen in the
coppice a few days before was an emissary of his.
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