"I don't know what it was, and it isn't for me to be curious, my lord," continued the faithful fellow, "but it's my opinion that something went wrong down at the Hall, and that his lordship cut up rough about it."
Lord Charles, remembering that letter and the beautiful girl at the cottage, nodded.
"Perhaps so," he said. "Well, we'll go down to the Doone Valley. Better pack up to-night, or rather this morning. I'll go home and get a bath, and we'll be off at once. Fish out the train, will you?"
Oliver, who was a perfect master of "Bradshaw," turned over the leaves of that valuable compilation, and discovered a train that left in the afternoon, and Lord Charles "broke it" to Leycester.
Leycester accepted their decision with perfect indifference.
"I shall be ready," he said, in a dispassionate, indifferent way. "Tell Oliver what you want."
"It's a mere box in a jungle," said Lord Charles.
"A jungle is what I want," said Leycester, grimly.
With the same grim indifference he started by that afternoon train, smoking in silence nearly all the way down to Barnstaple, and showing no interest in anything.
Oliver had telegraphed to secure seats in the coach that leaves that ancient town for the nearest point to the Valley, and early the next morning they arrived.