“There goes the best man we’ve got on show in these parts.” The gentleman to whom he spoke turned a somewhat pale and weary face to the coachman.
“Who is he?” he asked.
“Mr. Varley Howard,” answered Johnson.
Trafford, for it was he, started slightly.
“Varley Howard?” he repeated, mechanically.
“Yes,” said Johnson. “He’s just ridden in. He ain’t made much of a stay. I heard at the stables that there was some trouble at Three Star—something in which his ward, Esmeralda, was concerned.”
Trafford almost rose from his seat.
“Esmeralda!” he exclaimed, half unconsciously.
“Yes,” said Johnson. “It must be something to do with her, or you wouldn’t find Varley Howard moving at this rate. She came out with my coach six weeks ago or thereabouts. We was ‘put up’ by the Dog’s Ear men, and Varley saved us.”
“And Esmeralda—this lady?” asked Trafford, with a tightening of the lips.