‘I shall refer the matter, then, to one of the Lord Chancellor’s visitors,’ said Herbert, displaying an intimate acquaintance with procedure which rather surprised Sir Rupert.
‘That is not necessary, I assure you. If the poor lady is capable of taking care of herself I do not wish to detain her. Far from it. If it is really your wish to visit Greystoke, Mr. Larkins, we will go there to-morrow.’
And thus Sir Rupert Farrington consented to a step which could not but have very serious consequences to himself and all who were dependent upon him.
[CHAPTER IV.]
VISITORS AT GREYSTOKE.
Greystoke had once been a manor-house and place of mark in the county of Hopshire. A long-fronted but compact mansion, with thick walls and a wide moat, it still looked capable of withstanding a siege. Not that there was any chance of one. Admission was not difficult to obtain, provided the usual formalities were observed. The thing was to get out again when you had once got in. The natural strength of the place made it nearly as secure as a prison. But no bolts or bars were needed; if the stout doors and numerous gates, deep moat, and broad haha had not sufficed, there was behind all the lynx-eyed watchfulness of the attendants.
Joe Hanlon was in high favour at Greystoke. In him—thanks to his long military training—prompt unhesitating obedience had come to be second nature. All orders he received he carried out implicitly, and to the letter. He was as plucky too as he was punctual; and he could always be relied on when there was an ugly job on hand. Hard, tough, and resolute, he was ready to tackle the most truculent patient, and brave his fiercest rage. ‘The Boy’s’ little weakness for refreshment might have done him harm at Greystoke, but his superiors at the asylum were not as keen in the detection of unsteadiness as the non-commissioned officers of the Duke’s Own; and when Joe was at all ‘on,’ he managed to keep the secret to himself. Perhaps, as a valuable servant, his masters were often conveniently blind.