CHAPTER XCIV.
THE COINER AND THE SPY--A REGULAR DUST-UP, AND WHAT CAME OF IT--THECHASE--AN ODD ESCAPE--HUNTING IN THE HAY--A ROUGH CUSTOMER DONE FOR.
When Lenoir had puzzled himself for some time over the mysteriousdisappearance of Herbert Murray, he made a discovery.
The window was open, a circumstance which he had until then, in themost unaccountable manner imaginable, overlooked.
But when he got to the window and looked out, there were no signs ofthe object of his search.
He had followed so sharply that Murray could not have had time to getoff.
He looked up and down the road eagerly.
The only thing in sight was a wagon-load of hay drawn by a team ofhorses, at whose head plodded a waggoner in a blue cotton blouse, whipin hand.
"_He, la-bas!_" shouted the coiner from the window.
The waggoner turned and looked eagerly up.
"_Qu'avez-vous?_" demanded the waggoner. "What's the matter?"
"Have you seen anyone jump out of window?" shouted Lenoir.
The waggoner responded tartly, for he fancied that his questioner wastrying to chaff him.
"I've seen no one mad enough for that; in fact I've seen no one madderthan you since I've been in this part of the country."
"_Espece de voyou!_" cried the irritable Lenoir, "_je te ficheraisune danse si j'avais le temps pour t'apprendrs ce que c'est que lapolitesse_. I'd dust your jacket for you if I had the time to teach youpoliteness."
"You're not likely to have time enough for that, as long as you live,_espece de pignouf_."
"Idiot!"
"_Imbecile!_"
This interchange of compliments appeared to relieve the belligerentparties considerably.
Lenoir was obliged to give it up for a bad job.
Suddenly a singular idea shot into his head.
The hay cart!
What if Herbert Murray had got into it unseen and was there now,without his presence being suspected by the waggoner?
Lenoir reflected for a moment.
Then he darted down the stairs in pursuit of the waggon.
"Hullo, there, driver!" he shouted.
The waggoner looked over his shoulder and recognised Lenoir.
So he whipped up.
The best pace that even a stout team of horses could put on, with a bigload of hay behind them was not to say racehorse speed, so the coinersoon caught them up.
The waggoner awaited his approach, grasping his whip with a nervousgrip that foreboded mischief.
On came Lenoir.
"I say, my friend," he called out, "I think you have a man concealed inthe cart!"
"_Va-t-en!_--get out!" retorted the waggoner.
"I am serious. Will you oblige me by pulling up and looking?"
"Not exactly."
Lenoir had a very limited stock of patience, and he soon came to theend of it.
He ran to the leading horse and pulled it up sharply.
The waggoner swore and lashed up.
But Lenoir, turning his attention next to the shaft horse, pulled thewaggon up to a standstill.
And the waggoner, furious at this, lashed Lenoir.
The whip caught him round the head and shoulders, curling about so thatthe man could not get it free.
Lenoir caught at the thong, and with a sudden jerk, brought thewaggoner down from his seat.
Now began as pretty a little skirmish as you could wish to see.
The waggoner fell an easy prey to the furious coiner at first.
He was half-dazed with being jerked down to the ground.
But he soon recovered himself.
Then he set to punching at Lenoir with all his strength.
Then they grappled fiercely with each other.
A desperate struggle for supremacy ensued.
At length Lenoir's superior strength and science prevailed, tough asthe waggoner was.
The latter lay under the coiner, whose knee pressed cruelly upon hischest.
"Now ask my pardon," said Lenoir.
"Never!" roared the defeated waggoner, stoutly.
"I shall kill you if you don't," said Lenoir, threateningly.
"Mind you don't get finished off first," said the waggonersignificantly.
As he spoke, he was looking up over his conqueror's shoulder.
Lenoir perceived this, but thought it only a _ruse_ to get him to shifthis hold.
So, with a contemptuous smile, he raised his clenched fist to deal theluckless waggoner a blow that was to knock every scrap of sense out ofhis unfortunate cranium.
"Take that!"
But before the waggoner could get it, Lenoir received something himselfthat sent him to earth with a hollow groan--felled like a bullockbeneath the butcher's pole-axe.
Somebody had after all been concealed in the waggon.
That somebody was Herbert Murray himself.
The English youth had heard the scuffle, and seeing his opportunity, heslid out of his place of concealment and joined in the fight at thevery right moment.
* * * *
The waggoner shook himself together.
"That was neatly done, _camarade_," he said.
"I was just in time," said Murray; "look after him. He is wanted by thepolice; a desperate customer. They are after him now."
"He's very quiet," said the waggoner, with a curious glance.
"He's not dead," returned Murray; "he has his destiny to fulfil yet."
"What may that be?"
"The galleys," was the reply.
The waggoner stared hard at young Murray.
"I don't like the look of you much more than that of the beast lyingthere," he thought to himself; "mind you don't keep him company in thegalleys."
An odd fancy to cross a stranger's mind.
Was it prophetic?