“Ceddie, were you driving your own horses yesterday?”
“Dear old boy, of course I was, but what has that to say to anything?”
“I want ’em,” said Sir Richard.
“But, Ricky, I’ve got to go back to Bath to get hold of that necklace before it’s discovered to be made of paste!”
“Take the landlord’s gig. I must have a fast pair immediately.”
“The landlord’s gig!” gasped Cedric, reeling under the shock. “Ricky, you must be mad!”
“I am not in the least mad. I am going after the London stage, to recover that brat of mine. Be a good fellow, now, and tell them to harness the horses at once!”
“Oh, very well!” Cedric said. “If that’s the way it is! But I’ll be satisfied with nothing less than a cavalry regiment, mind!”
“You shall have anything you like!” promised Sir Richard, already half-way up the stairs.
“Mad, quite mad!” said Cedric despairingly, and set up a shout for an ostler.