"Who sent you to kill this horse?"
A little more force was brought to bear with the question.
"Marston—Devil Marston! Ease up a little and I'll talk—I swear I'll talk!"
John did as the man requested, though not lessening his grip on the wrists.
"Now let me tell you something. You don't know who I am, but I want you to know. You came out here expecting easy sailing, because you thought there was no one here to protect this horse. I'm the new doctor who came last night, and I'm at your hotel. I won't be there tomorrow night. I'm not making you any promises of secrecy about this matter, but I'd advise you to cut Marston. Now I want you to go to Marston tomorrow with this message from John Glenning. Tell him I say he's got to leave the Dudleys and the Dudley's horse alone. Tell him the next one who comes here on mischief will be shot, if it is himself. Do you understand, and will you promise to tell him?"
"Yes, I'll tell him every word. But for God's sake don't you tell anybody of this. It'd ruin me. It's the first time I've ever gone wrong, and if you'll let me off I'll swear not to do anything bad again. And I'll tell Marston. He got me into this."
"I'll not make you any promises, but I'll see how you behave, for I've come here to stay. Go, now, before daylight catches you, and thank the Lord you're alive!"
In the first gray dawn of the next morning Peter knocked dubiously on the smoke-house door. It was opened promptly, and when he saw The Prince alive and unharmed his joy knew no bounds. Glenning dismissed his exuberant manifestations somewhat abruptly, for he was in haste to be gone. Instructing the darky to say to the Dudleys that nothing of any consequence had happened, he went around the house and down the avenue towards the road.
And how was he to know that behind a partly lifted curtain in an upper room two sleep-sweet eyes, moist with beauty newly born, watched his retreating figure with something approaching tenderness in their depths?