"We have his chariot," I reminded. "He will find it hard to come this distance on foot."
"He"s got Jessica, his horse."
I nodded, and we relapsed into silence, listening to the drum-beat of the rain on the carriage roof and the whine of wind through the coarse grass. I do not know how much time passed before I heard the soft clop of hooves in the mud. I curled my hand around the pistol butt as my heart-beat increased.
"Halloa!" The voice echoed hollowly in the dark.
I looked at Emily. "That"s not Peter." I placed my thumb on the hammer of the pistol.
"Halloa! In the coach there!"
Keeping my hand on the pistol, I opened the door and peered outside. A lone horseman was negotiating the slope to the carriage. Surely a highwayman would not announce himself?
"Halloa yourself," I called. "
