“It was just an idea of his,” Gerald answered. “We were going abroad in a day or two. He was always nervous. If you like, I’ll take it away.”
He stooped down and withdrew it from the unconscious man’s pocket. He started as he discovered that it was loaded in every chamber.
“I can’t bear the sight of them things,” the woman declared. “It’s the men of evil ways, who’ve no trust in the Lord, who need that sort of protection.”
They heard the door pushed open, the howl of wind down the passage, and the beating of rain upon the stone flags. Then it was softly closed again. The landlord staggered into the room, followed by a young man.
“This ‘ere is Mr. Martin’s chaffer,” he announced. “You can tell him what you want yerself.”
Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer.
“I want to go to the other side of Holt,” he said, “and get my friend—get this gentleman away from here—get him home, if possible. Can you take me?”
The chauffeur looked doubtful.
“I’m afraid of the roads, sir,” he replied. “There’s talk about many bridges down, and trees, and there’s floods out everywhere. There’s half a foot of water, even, across the village street now. I’m afraid we shouldn’t get very far.”
“Look here,” Gerald begged eagerly, “let’s make a shot at it. I’ll pay you double the hire of the car, and I’ll be responsible for any damage. I want to get out of this beastly place. Let’s get somewhere, at any rate, towards a civilised country. I’ll see you don’t lose anything. I’ll give you a five pound note for yourself if we get as far as Holt.”