The Quiet Gentleman

"You knew I had gone to Grantham! You might have guessed that damned groom of his would follow me! You knew Lord Ulverston, even, was out of the way! And you let him escape you! God, how you have bungled it!"

Miss Morville, looking over the balustrade, saw him turn on his heel, and stride towards the vestibule. Her voice tore itself from her. "Martin, no! Stop!" she called.

Either he did not hear her, or he did not choose to hear her. He had disappeared already from her sight, and only Mr. Leek remained, gazing up the stairway in considerable discomfiture. Miss Morville disregarded him. Bent only upon detaining Martin, she darted to the head of the stairs, and began to hurry down them. Her foot caught in her short train, she lost her balance, clutched unavailingly at the massive, mahogany hand-rail, and pitched forward, tumbling and rolling down the stairs, to land in an inanimate heap at the feet of the dismayed Mr. Leek.

Martin, unaware even of her presence on the scene, was already outside the Castle. He did indeed hear Mr. Leek call to him, in agitated accents, but he paid no attention, making his way swiftly, yet with a certain caution, towards the stables.

The peace of the afternoon seemed to reign over them. There was no sign of Chard in the main yard, nor of any of the stable hands. Martin, after a quick look round, crossed the yard to the wing which housed his own cattle. At the door, he paused again, but he heard his groom's voice say: "Get over now!" and he at once entered the stable.

He found Hickling engaged in rubbing down his hack, already haltered in his stall. He said, in an imperative undervoice: "Where's Chard?"

"Gone off to his quarters, I think, sir. Mr. Martin, his lordship ain't in his bed! He went off in his curricle, and my uncle with him, and—"

"I know that!" Martin interrupted. "Any clodpole would have served me better than your damned uncle! Get my saddle on to the bay! Quick!"

"But, Mr. Martin—!"

A footstep sounded outside, and a not very melodious voice, humming one of the ditties popular at one time with the Army in Spain.

"Chard!" Martin whispered. "Leave the saddle—I'll do it myself! Get that fellow out of earshot!"

"Mr. Martin, I don't like it!" Hickling whispered in return. "If you're meaning to go yourself, it's too dangerous, sir! Only let me—"

"No! Do as I bid you!" Martin said, and thrust him towards the door.

He waited, standing very still, until he heard Hickling speak to Chard.

"P'raps, Mr. Chard, if you happen to be at liberty, you'd like to take a look at his lordship's Cloud, which you seen fit to turn into the meadow this morning," said Hickling, with awful politeness. "Of course, it ain't any business of mine, and I'm sure if you're satisfied there's nothing amiss, after all the experience you've had, I wouldn't wish to raise my voice. I should have thought you'd have noticed it, when you brought him out, but there! you was in such a hurry to get off to Grantham I daresay you wasn't looking at him very particular."

"Now then, my lad, what are you talking about?" demanded Chard. "Anything there was to notice you can take it I noticed all right and tight!"

"Then I'm sure I must be mistook in thinking he's got a spavin forming."

"Spavin? What d'ye mean?"

A smile twitched the corners of Martin's mouth. He picked up his saddle, still warm from use, and went softly forward to where Hickling had hung up his bridle while he rubbed down the tired hack. He heard Hickling say that he would be happy to show his colleague just what he meant; listened to the sound of footsteps retreating; and quickly entered the loose-box which housed a good-looking bay.

CHAPTER 21

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It would have saddened Mr. Leek had he known that the only other gate lying in the path of the Earl's curricle was opened for him by an obliging urchin, who darted out of a nearby cottage in the hope of earning a penny. Half a mile beyond this gate, the Earl was able to turn off the track on to a passable road, which led him eventually to the manor of Evesleigh.