A moment Brion sat looking at him: it was not in his heart to deny a fellow-creature in such straits, and appearing so spent and broken. He was not of those, moreover, who in an emergency argue before they act. With a curt word he slipped his left foot out of the stirrup, and bent over. ‘Mount behind,’ said he, and as the fugitive struggled exhaustedly to heave himself to the horse’s crupper, fetched a strong hand under his armpit and helped him into place. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘hold on to my belt,’ and with a tap of his heel to his good steed’s belly, they were off.
‘Whither?’ he said over his shoulder, presently slowing down; and the breathless voice answered in his ear: ‘Whithersoever, so it lead to where they cannot find me.’
‘You wish to hide?’
‘O! indeed I do.’
‘Listen to me,’ said Brion: ‘I can hide you, an you will, where none will dream to look. But it is a drear uncanny place, and without comfort to one in your condition.’
‘Will it not serve a broken man to die in? I ask but rest and peace.’
‘Well, hold on again. I will take you there.’
‘“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was.” I can say no more now, Sir, than God bless you. You shall hear all presently.’
They sped on again, without another word between them. If Brion had a suspicion, he kept it to himself. His present fierce joy lay in circumventing brutality. Moreover he foresaw a certain distraction here to help him through the weary time of waiting. He went a wild roundabout way in order to avoid the chance of casual meetings, the bitter weather aiding him, and struck the ilex copse without having encountered a soul. Driving between the trees, he dismounted, first bidding the other hold firm by the saddle, while he tethered his horse to a branch, and afterwards helped him to the ground.
‘Now,’ said he, ‘if they, whoever they be, are after you, despatch must be the word.’