"The hotel people, early this morning. It seems he ordered a horse for seven o'clock, shortly after I left him last night. So they got him one, and off he went before breakfast in the flannel collar and the outrageous bush wideawake in which he landed. And he's never come back."
A change came over Lady Caroline Sellwood. She drew her chair a little nearer, and she favoured Claude Lafont with a kindlier glance than he had had from her since Easter.
"Something may have happened," whispered Lady Caroline hopefully.
"That's just it. Something must have happened."
"But something dreadful! Only last season there was a man killed in the Row! Was he—a very rough diamond, Claude?"
"Very."
Lady Caroline sighed complacently.
"But you can't help liking him," hastily added Claude, "and I hope to goodness nothing serious is the matter!"
"Of course, so do I. That goes without saying."
"Nor is he at all a likely man to be thrown. He has lived his life in the saddle. By the way, he brought his own old bush-saddle with him, and it appears that he insisted on riding out in that too."