Again the man drew her attention to it, and proposed that they should halt and face him who followed.

The possession of the musketoon gave him confidence touching the issue.

But Cynthia shuddered at the thought, and again, with promises of rich reward, urged them to go faster.

Another mile they went, but every moment brought the pursuing hoof-beats nearer and nearer, until at last a hoarse challenge rang out behind them, and they knew that to go farther would be vain; within the next half-mile, ride as they might, their pursuer would be upon them.
The night was moonless, yet sufficiently clear for objects to be perceived against the sky, and presently the black shadow of him who rode behind loomed up upon the road, not a hundred paces off.
Despite Cynthia's orders not to fire, he of the musketoon raised his weapon under cover of the darkness and blazed at the approaching shadow.
Cynthia cried out--a shriek of dismay it was; the horses plunged, and Sir Crispin laughed aloud as he bore down upon them.

He of the musketoon heard the swish of a sword being drawn, and saw the glitter of the blade in the dark.