Jacqueline’s gray eyes regarded him quizzically. The sardonic old face spread to a grin, but deftly readjusted itself to the requisite despair.
Not a carriage except the wrecked one was in sight. Only the Tiger’s whelps, by the hundred, surrounded her.
“And the others? Her Majesty?”
“The others did the sensible thing. They know that you will catch up with them when they themselves are mired. Her Majesty, being ahead, is probably still in ignorance of your accident.”
“But the wheel?”
“If mademoiselle wishes it mended?”
“Is it so bad?”
297Dupin caught her expression. “It will take six hours,” he said mercilessly.
“Oh dear!” said Jacqueline.
“There’s a settler’s cabin a mile from here. If you will accept my horse, and Mademoiselle Berthe can mount behind––”