A WHITE HAND AND A BLACK
THUMB.

IN THIRTEEN CHAPTERS.

CHAPTER IX.

THE extra post-coach which carried Arthur
and his fortunes had, by reason, no doubt, of its
exceptional character, so many extra preliminaries
to perform, and adieus to make, that it did not
rumble finally from the yard of the Merry Privateer
till after dusk. Government—which collective
substantive, for reasons best known to itself,
evinced quite a personal interest in this present
coach-journey—had allowed fourteen hours for
the vehicle to reach Harwich, a distance of
seventy miles; and, as these would for the
most part be hours of darkness, a trusty guard
had been further provided to watch over its
safety.

This individual, after the fashion of other
important characters, made his appearance only at
the last moment: and, when he did show, nearly
frightened a nervous lady-passenger into hysterics
by the multitude of lethal weapons sprinkled
about his person.

Just before leaving, a very weighty square
box, iron-bound, and secured with a most
ostentatious padlock, was borne from the inner office,
and let down with great care and ceremony into
the fore-boot.

"Treasure," said a knowing passenger to his
neighbour, with a wink.

"O, I do wish they wouldn't!" said the
nervous lady, trembling from head to foot.

"Wouldn't what, ma'am?" said the formidable
guard, bending his bushy brows.

"Put in money, please, sir," said the lady,
timidly. "It's like inviting them. Does government
want us murdered, please?"

"They send me to prevent it, ma'am," replied
the haughty guard. "Jump in, if you please.
Coach waits."

Five miles an hour, including stoppages, was
regarded in those days as excellent speed. The
extra post-coach disdained such creeping ways,
and had been scarcely three hours on the road,
when they approached Ingatestone, nearly twenty
miles from town.

A long hill, however, intervened, and the
sudden change of pace aroused the dozing
travellers to the knowledge that they were crawling
up an ascent, lined on either hand by a bank and
woodland. They were within a few yards of the
summit of the hill, when a loud exclamation
from the guard startled everybody. The coach
gave a rough jerk onward, as if the horses had
been urged to sudden speed. Then came a halt,
and an authoritative voice—

"Fling that down!"

Down went a blunderbuss on the road. It
was that borne by the formidable guard. He
had snapped it, honestly enough, at the speaker;
but the piece had missed fire, the robber's pistol
was at his head, and all the fire-weapons in the
world could not have saved his skull.

With one hand, the robber took away the
guard's remaining arms; the other still holding
the pistol about an inch from his eye. There was
a moment's pause: then the coach door was
opened, and a white hand, sparkling with gems,
but with the thumb black as ink, was extended
into the circle.

"Forgive me! Purses. Quick, if you please.
The mail for London is coming. You know very
well I can't search two coaches at once."

A rapid fumbling ensued, and several purses
were put into the hand. Then commenced a
reluctant tugging at watches.

"Keep those! Purses only! Now, sir!" said
the highwayman, touching Haggerdorn.

"I have not a purse, nor much of moneys,"
replied Arthur, "but——"

"What's that in your hand?"

"Only a——"

"A snuff-box. I've lost my own. Toss it
hither."

"I'll die first," said the boy.

"Young fool!" was the only retort, as the
practised hand made one swoop into the coach
and vanished with the snuff-box. "Enough,
gentlemen! A good journey!"

"Heaven be praised!" ejaculated the nervous
lady.

"Have they got the treasure, you?" inquired
a male passenger of the discomfited guard.

"No, they ain't got the treasure," growled the
latter. "For why? There wa'n't none. It
were a trap, you see. The treasure's gone by
the reg'lar coach. And the robber he know'd
on it."

"This is a paternal government," said the
passenger, dashing up the window. "Trap,
indeed! Baited with the public!"