Trenchard rapped out his story briefly.
"Shenke," said he, "who was riding from Lyme with letters for you from the Duke, was robbed of his dispatches late last night a mile or so this side Taunton." "Highwaymen ?" inquired Mr.Wilding, his tone calm, though his glance had hardened.
"Highwaymen?
No! Government agents belike.

There were two of them, he says--for I have the tale from himself--and they met him at the Hare and Hounds at Taunton, where he stayed to sup last night.

One of them gave him the password, and he conceived him to be a friend.

But afterwards, growing suspicious, he refused to tell them too much.

They followed him, it appears, and on the road they overtook and fell upon him; they knocked him from his horse, possessed themselves of the contents of his wallet, and left him for dead--with his head broken." Mr.Wilding drew a sharp breath.