After she had gone, Mr. Carteret lighted a cigarette and went out. It was his intention to go to his room, have his tub, and change. His mind was relieved. He had no fear that Lady Withers would either beam or radiate for a young man whose fortune was in captivity to a trustee. He had saved Barclay, and he was pleased with himself. As he passed through the twilight of the main hallway, the front door opened, and Lady Mary Granvil and Barclay entered side by side. It was the girl’s voice that he heard first.
“Please have it dressed at once,” she was saying.
“But there’s no hurry,” said Barclay.
“Please, at once,” said the girl. There was something in her tone that made Mr. Carteret turn from the stairs and go forward to meet them.
“I’ve snapped my collar-bone,” said Barclay. “It’s nothing.”
The girl drew back a step into the heavy shadow of the corner, but Mr. Carteret did not notice it. “So old True Blue has put you down at last,” he said.
“Yes,” said Barclay evasively; “that is—”
“He was not riding True Blue,” said Lady Mary resolutely. “He was riding my horse. Mr. Barclay changed with me.”
“The horse was all right,” said Barclay, hurriedly. “It was my own fault. I bothered him at a piece of timber. It wasn’t the horse you thought it was,” he added rather anxiously. “It was one they got from Oakly, the dealer.”
Now, Mr. Carteret had sold the horse in question to Oakly, yet he said nothing, but stood and looked from one to the other. Disturbing suspicions were springing up in the depths of his mind.