Mr Markham seemed undecided. “It’s no business of yours,” he said savagely. “But if I find ’twas you did it — Which way did the chaise go?”
“To-towards London, sir,” nervously answered mine host. “But ’tis only what Tom says. I didn’t see myself, and indeed, sir — ”
Mr Markham said something between his teeth at which mine host cast a horrified glance at Miss Merriot. The lady appeared to be unmoved. “Saddle me a horse at once! Where’s my hat?”
Light dawned on Mr Merriot. “Egad, it’s a runaway, Kate. Faith, sir, it seems my — er — impetuosity was indeed ill-timed. A horse, of course! You should be up with the chaise soon enough. A horse for the gentleman!” Mr Merriot swept out into the court, bearing mine host before him.
“It’s ready saddled, sir, but Tom says the gentleman ordered it half an hour since,” said the puzzled landlord.
“Saddled and ready, eh? Then see it brought round to the door, for the gentleman’s in a hurry.”
“Yes, sir, but how came it that the horse was bespoke when the gentleman was a-laying like one dead?”
“Bespoke? A ruse, man, a ruse, and your man in madam’s pay very like. Best keep your mouth shut. Ah, behold the bereft gentleman!”
Mr Markham came stamping out with his hat rammed over his nose, and managed to hoist himself into the saddle with the assistance of two scared ostlers. He gathered the bridle up, and turned to glare down upon Mr Merriot. “I’ll settle with you later,” he promised ferociously, and setting spurs to his horse dashed off into the darkness.
Miss Merriot came out to lay a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “The dear gentleman!” she remarked. “Very well, child, but what next?”