The landlord and a stable boy come running out and Yorke flings them the reins. Then he helps Leslie down, and goes round to the back to assist the duke.
"I suppose we shall be able to get some lunch here Yorke?" he says, as he leans on his sticks.
"Lunch indoors on a day like this? Not much!" retorts Yorke, scornfully. "Out with that hamper, Grey, and get this yokel to help you carry it to the tower. You can walk as far as that, Dolph? Miss Lisle will show you the way."
At the sound of her name Leslie turns from the rustic window into which she had been mechanically looking.
"Oh, yes. There has been another party here this morning," she adds.
"How do you know that?" asks Yorke.
"Because I can see the remains of their luncheon on the table," she says, laughing.
"Yes, sir," says the landlord. "Party of three, sir; two gentlemen and a lady."
"Thank goodness they have gone!" says Yorke. "You go on. I'll go and see that the horses are rubbed down and fed; I owe that to Vinson, anyhow."
He is not long in following them, but by the time he has reached the tower, Grey has unpacked the basket, and laid out a tempting lunch. There is a fowl, a ham, an eatable-looking fruit tart, cream, some jelly, the crispiest of loaves, and firmest of butter, and a couple of bottles with golden tops.