“My God, here’s a pretty coil!” exclaimed Cedric, grasping with remarkable swiftness the gist of her remarks. “Hi, Ricky, wait!”
The bays were dancing with impatience. “Stand away from their heads!” commanded Sir Richard.
“And here’s Mr Gudgeon himself, wishful to see Sir Richard and Mr Brandon very particular, which I was obliged to take him up in the trap, though little I want Bow Street Runners, or the like, in my house, as you well know, Tom!”
“Ricky!” shouted Cedric, striding out into the yard. “Wait, man! That bloodhound of mine is here, and there’s the devil to pay!”
“Fob him off, Ceddie, fob him off!” called Sir Richard over his shoulder, and swept out of the yard into the street.
“Ricky, you madman, hold a minute!” roared Cedric.
But the curricle had bowled out of sight The ostler enquired whether he should run after it.
“Run after my bays?” said Cedric scornfully. “You’d need wings, not legs, to catch them, my good fool!”
He turned back to the inn, encountering in the doorway Lady Luttrell, who had come out to see what all the shouting was about.
“What is the matter, Mr Brandon?” she asked. “You seem very much put out.”