"I beg your pardon, Mr. Paul; I could not see your face out there. Won't you walk in, sir?"
Paul dropped his mare's bridle and stepped inside. The polished white stone hall, with its huge fire in the centre, looked warm and comfortable, and away in the distance there was a cheerful rattle of teacups.
"What are you doing here, Gomez?" Paul asked, shaking the wet from his hat. "I understood that you were going to take the under-bailiff's place."
"Higgs has not left yet, sir," Gomez answered. "I have been living here as caretaker for Major Harcourt."
"Caretaker! Isn't he at home then?"
Gomez shook his head, looking keenly at Paul all the time. "Major Harcourt does not winter here now, sir. He has let the place, furnished."
"What a confounded nuisance! To whom has he let it?" Paul asked quickly. "You see my plight, and my horse is worse off still. We lost our way going home from Dunston Spinnies."
"Major Harcourt's tenant is a lady," Gomez answered, after a moment's hesitation. "She only arrived yesterday."
Paul shrugged his shoulders. He was annoyed, but there was no help for it.
"Well, will you see her at once and represent matters? I want a loose box for the night for my horse, and a rest for myself, and afterwards a conveyance for the Abbey, if possible. Tell her my name. I daresay she won't mind. Who is she?"