"A gentleman has called to see you, sir—a Mr. Spencer," he announced. "I have shown him into the library."
Mr. Fielding appeared to hesitate for a moment.
"It is the man who wants to sell us the car," he exclaimed, turning towards the girl, "but I haven't even seen it yet. Better tell him to wait for a quarter of an hour," he added, turning towards the footman. "I'll just drive down to the lodge gates and back. Come along, Sybil."
She followed him to the front door. A man was seated at the wheel of the motor car, and turned his head quickly as they approached. Mr. Fielding nodded pleasantly, though his face was white with excruciating pain.
"Kept you waiting, I'm afraid," he said. "Can you drive at all in a wind like this?"
"Jump in, sir, and see," the man answered. "Is the young lady coming?"
Mr. Fielding nodded, and stepped into the front seat. The girl was already in the tonneau. The man slipped in his clutch, and they glided round the broad, circular sweep in front of the entrance. Just as they started the wagonette drew up.
"We sha'n't be more than a few minutes," Mr. Fielding cried out, waving his hand. "Sorry you've lost your day's sport."
"Hold on a minute, and I'll come with you," Runton called out. "That car looks like going."
But Mr. Fielding did not hear.