Dr. Masham could gain no tidings of the object of his pursuit at
Southport: here, however, he ascertained that Plantagenet could not
have fled to London, for in those days public conveyances were rare.
There was only one coach that ran, or rather jogged, along this road,
and it went but once a week, it being expected that very night; while
the innkeeper was confident that so far as Southport was concerned,
his little lordship had not sought refuge in the waggon, which
was more frequent, though somewhat slower, in its progress to the
metropolis. Unwilling to return home, although the evening was now
drawing in, the Doctor resolved to proceed to a considerable town
about twelve miles further, which Cadurcis might have reached by a
cross road; so drawing his cloak around him, looking to his pistols,
and desiring his servant to follow his example, the stout-hearted
Rector of Marringhurst pursued his way.
It was dark when the Doctor entered the town, and he proceeded
immediately to the inn where the coach was expected, with some faint
hope that the fugitive might be discovered abiding within its walls;
but, to all his inquiries about young gentlemen and ponies, he
received very unsatisfactory answers; so, reconciling himself as well
as he could to the disagreeable posture of affairs, he settled himself
in the parlour of the inn, with a good fire, and, lighting his pipe,
desired his servant to keep a sharp look-out.
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