| 462 | 463 | 464 | 465 | 466 |
| 1 | 133 | 265 | 398 | 530 |
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All this time Mr Chuckster had been standing at the door, and the
small servant had been afraid to approach. She had nothing for it
now, therefore, but to run after the chaise, and to call to Mr Abel to
stop. Being out of breath when she came up with it, she was unable to
make him hear. The case was desperate; for the pony was quickening
his pace. The Marchioness hung on behind for a few moments, and,
feeling that she could go no farther, and must soon yield, clambered
by a vigorous effort into the hinder seat, and in so doing lost one of
the shoes for ever.
Mr Abel being in a thoughtful frame of mind, and having quite enough
to do to keep the pony going, went jogging on without looking round:
little dreaming of the strange figure that was close behind him, until
the Marchioness, having in some degree recovered her breath, and the
loss of her shoe, and the novelty of her position, uttered close into his
ear, the words - 'I say, Sir' -
He turned his head quickly enough then, and stopping the pony,
cried, with some trepidation, 'God bless me, what is this!'
'
Don't be frightened, Sir,' replied the still panting messenger. 'Oh I've
run such a way after you!'
'
'
What do you want with me?' said Mr Abel. 'How did you come here?'
I got in behind,' replied the Marchioness. 'Oh please drive on, sir -
don't stop - and go towards the City, will you? And oh do please make
haste, because it's of consequence. There's somebody wants to see you
there. He sent me to say would you come directly, and that he knowed
all about Kit, and could save him yet, and prove his innocence.'
'
'
What do you tell me, child?'
The truth, upon my word and honour I do. But please to drive on -
quick, please! I've been such a time gone, he'll think I'm lost.'
Mr Abel involuntarily urged the pony forward. The pony, impelled by
some secret sympathy or some new caprice, burst into a great pace,
and neither slackened it, nor indulged in any eccentric performances,
until they arrived at the door of Mr Swiveller's lodging, where,
marvellous to relate, he consented to stop when Mr Abel checked him.
'See! It's the room up there,' said the Marchioness, pointing to one
where there was a faint light. 'Come!'
Mr Abel, who was one of the simplest and most retiring creatures in
existence, and naturally timid withal, hesitated; for he had heard of
people being decoyed into strange places to be robbed and murdered,
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