“Did you send a man on horseback from the church?” he asked eagerly of Mr Bray.
“Man on horseback?” said Mr Bray, looking confusedly up at where Sir Philip stood upon the front cushions.
“Yes, a messenger. Did you send one to the Court?”
“No,” said Mr Bray decidedly.
“Did any one, then? do you know of one being sent?” exclaimed Sir Philip.
“No,” said Mr Bray stoutly. “We sent no messenger.”
What did it mean, then, that strange man on the panting horse, who had brought a message for his son? Something must, then, be wrong, and this was no accident.
“Gone down here, Sir Philip, after all,” said the coachman, pointing with his whip, as he drew up at the entrance of the narrow lane.
“And come back again, have they not?” cried Sir Philip eagerly, peering down at the wheel-tracks in the hope of finding that in his own mind he had been raising up a bugbear of undefined shape and dread portent.
“No, Sir Philip, they ain’t come back,” said the coachman, turning his horses into the lane.