“My coat?” he said, anxiously, yet still not knowing why he wanted it.
“Are you cold,” said Hilary, spreading another blanket over him. But the Vicar understood, and fetched the buff coat from the corner where Durdle had thrown it.
“The inner pocket is here,” he said, placing it within reach of Gabriel’s right hand. And then, with a look of relief, the wounded man drew out the despatches.
“Will you give them to my father?” he said, pleadingly,
“Yes,” replied the Vicar; “but I shall beg him to come here first and dress your wounds. Will you give them to him yourself?”
“He may not come in time,” said Gabriel, faintly.
And the Vicar, seeing that he longed to have the anxiety off his mind thrust the despatches into his black doublet, and bidding them keep the tower door locked, set off with Zachary to the stable, where the old servant saddled the cob for him, and, promising to be about the premises ready to give Mrs. Durdle help should she need him, watched his master ride off in the direction of Hereford.
Dr. Coke was not a man to shirk anything which he had promised, but he could not help feeling that in this despatchbearing he had undertaken work which he would have preferred to leave alone. To stand quite aloof from the strife and never to forget that he was before all things pledged to the service of the Prince of Peace had been his aim throughout the Civil War; but to refuse the request of one who lay apparently at the point of death, seemed to him impossible, while Gabriel’s gallant rescue of Hilary increased the desire he felt to give him whatever ease of mind was possible.
On reaching Hereford he rode straight to the physician’s house and, learnt from the servant that her master was about to ride out into the country. However, he was shown into the study.
“I will not detain you many minutes, sir,” he said, after the greetings had passed. “I know how precious time is to such a busy man.”