What trustier messenger could I find now that I have lent him zest by fright?
To win Cynthia, we may rely upon him safely to do that in which another might fail." "Joseph, you will roast in hell for it." Joseph laughed him to scorn.
"To bed with you, you canting hypocrite; your wound makes you light-headed." It was a half-hour ere Kenneth returned, booted, cloaked, and ready for his journey.

He found Joseph alone, busily writing, and in obedience to a sign he sat him down to wait.
A few minutes passed, then, with a final scratch and splutter Joseph flung down his pen.

With the sandbox tilted in the air, like a dicer about to make his throw, he looked at the lad.
"You will spare neither whip nor spur until you arrive in London, Master Kenneth.

You must ride night and day; the matter is of the greatest urgency." Kenneth nodded that he understood, and Joseph sprinkled the sand over the written page.
"I know not when you should reach London so that you may be in time, but," he continued, and as he spoke he creased the paper and poured the superfluous sand back into the box, "I should say that by midnight to-morrow your message should be delivered.

Aye," he continued, in answer to the lad's gasp of surprise, "it is hard riding, I know, but if you would win Cynthia you must do it.