was still his cry, though the horses galloped whenever
it was practicable, and the wheels cast the winter's mire into his eager
face. This haste was made, as he well knew, upon the road to his own
ruin. To find Solomon alive was to be accused of having compassed his
death. There was no hope in the magnanimity of such a foe. But yesterday
Richard had cared little or nothing for his own safety, and was only
bent upon the prosecution of his scheme against his foe; now life had
mysteriously become dear to him, and he was about to risk it in saving
the man he had hated most on earth from the doom to which he had himself
consigned him. He had calculated the possibilities which were in his own
favor, and they had resolved themselves into this single chance--that
Solomon might be induced, by the unconditional offer of Wheal Danes and
its golden treasure, to forego his revenge. His greed was great; but his
malice, as Richard had good cause to know, was also not easily
satisfied. Moreover, even if his victim should decline to be his
prosecutor, he would still stand in great peril. It was only too
probable that he would be recognized at Gethin for the stranger that had
so lately been staying at Turlock; he had not, indeed, mentioned his
assumed name at the latter place; but his lack of interest in the fate
of Solomon--whose disappearance had been narrated to him by the
waitress--and his departure from the town under such circumstances,
would (in case of his identification) be doubtless contrasted with this
post-haste journey of his to deliver this same man. He had made up his
mind, however, to neglect no precautions to avoid this contingency. It
would be dark when he got to Gethin; and his purpose once accomplished
he might easily escape recognition, unless he should be denounced by
Solomon himself. In that case Richard was fully determined that he would
glut no more the curiosity of the crowd. He would never stand in the
prisoner's dock, or be consigned again to stone walls. The gossips
should have a dead man's face to gaze at, and welcome; they might make
what sport they pleased of that, but not again of his living agony.
Then, instead of his being Solomon's murderer, he would be his victim.
To judge by his present feeling, thought Richard, bitterly, this man
would not enjoy his triumph even then. Revenge, as his mother had once
told him, was like a game of battle-door--it is never certain who gets
the last stroke. If Solomon was