“Oh, yes! Come, let us get on—away from here.”
I was on my feet. “What is it, Lynam?”
“Do not ask. Come!” and the doctor caught my arm and hurried me along. I saw he was labouring under some great emotion and forebore to speak. We reached the gate leading up to the house. It was open, and in two minutes we were at the hall door. That, too, was open, and on the steps stood a man holding a lamp out from above his shoulder, and who seemed framed by the doorway. It was Terry.
“Doctor, darlint, did you see him?”
“Where’s the mare?”
“She’s in the yard, doctor. She has not a scratch on her, but there’s a lather on her all over.”
“Go and rub her down, put her up, and come back as soon as you can.”
The doctor’s tone had become calm again.
The excitement caused by this incident had made me forget the hunger and the cold, but when I entered the doctor’s cosy room with its bright log fire glowing in the hearth and inhaled my first breath of the warm temperature I shuddered, and the doctor, noticing my discomfiture, uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured out a tumblerful. I observed that his hand shook as he presented it to me, and also that he appeared strangely put about.
I tossed off the wine and then accompanied the doctor to my room, and made myself ready for dinner.