Oliver nodded.
"We'll run over there. Needn't say anything to his lordship—you understand."
Oliver quite understood, and went off to the small stable to see about the horses, and Lord Charles went to bed chuckling over his little plot.
When they started in the morning, Leycester asked no questions and displayed the supremest indifference to the route, and Lord Charles, affecting a little indecision, made for the road to which Oliver had directed him.
The two friends rode almost in silence as was their wont, Leycester paying very little attention to anything excepting his horse, and scarcely noticing the fact that Lord Charles seemed very decided about the route.
Once he asked a question; it was when the evening was drawing in, and they were still riding, as to their destination, but Lord Charles evaded it:
"We shall get somewhere, I expect," he said quietly. "There is sure to be an inn—or something."
And Leycester was content.
About dusk they reached the entrance to Darlingford. There was no village, no inn. Leycester pulled up and waited indifferently.
"What do we do now?" he asked.