“You talked of taking the trap and Brown Bess,” he said; “if you do, what time will you be back, as I want the trap to drive over in the evening to Captain North’s?”
“What time do you want to go?” asked Reid.
“I have to be there by nine. It’s a kind of sporting supper he has on, and I promised to go.”
“It’ll not take ye more than an hour to go to Newstead? Well, I’ll be back by seven, and ye better drive one of the other horses.”
“All right,” answered Henderson, shortly, and then without another word he left the stable, and Reid looked after him curiously.
“He looked uncommon vicious,” he thought; “I wonder if he can be planning any mischief?”
And this idea recurred again to his mind when he saw Henderson the next morning. There was a dark, lowering, determined look on his face that Reid did not like, and as he indulged in no strong language the groom began to think it looked suspicious.
“Be sure you are back by seven,” was all Henderson said in allusion to their conversation of the night before; and when he had turned away, Reid began whistling softly to himself.
And all the day after Henderson was restless and strange in his manner. He told his mother that he would not be at home at dinner-time, as he was going to Captain North’s, and accordingly about half-past six o’clock he left the house, and proceeded on foot to a lonely spot in the road, that he knew Reid must pass on his return from Skidder’s, the horse dealer’s.
This part of the road ran through a little wood, and there were trees on either side of the horse path. Here behind the trunk of a great spreading oak Henderson stationed himself with murder in his heart. He meant to shoot Reid, cost him what it might, for the man’s insolence had become to him utterly unbearable.