“Learned it from a waggoner?”
“I might have learned it from a dozen such, I daresay! Some carrier who was at Cheringham this morning spread the story everywhere he went! The waggoner told me that you had been murdered and that I had disappeared, and was being everywhere looked-for! Of course, I might have guessed it wasn’t as bad as that, but — well, I — ”
“Took fright?”
“I didn’t know what to do!” Martin blurted out. “I thought if anyone recognized me — or guessed who I was — I should find myself hustled off to gaol — I, Martin Frant! All I could think of to do was to get back here without being seen, and — and discover how it was, and think what I must do. But that fellow, Chard, was hunting for me, and I had been seen, of course, though no one knew me, all that way from Stanyon, and in such a rig! But I suppose when he described me, and what I was wearing, those curst bumpkins set him on my track. He came up with me in that village — driving my gig, tool — and — and then I heard how it was, and he brought me home as though I had been a felon, and he my gaoler, bringing me up to the Assize, or something! And after that, there was Theo — and Ulverston! — not believing a word I said, and declaring I should not see you! But I had to see you, and tell you — !”
Miss Morville, who had been watching the weary face against the pillow, said: “Well, Martin, now that you have done so, I shall be very much obliged to you if you will go away again, and leave his lordship to sleep! There is nothing more to be done tonight, you know, and I daresay, if you wish it, your brother will see you again tomorrow.”
She wished then that she had not said this, for the Earl moved his head in a gesture of dissent, and his lips framed the one word: “No.”
Martin saw it too, and said sharply: “St. Erth, you can’t mean — St. Erth, you’ll let me come and see you tomorrow, surely!”
“No. You can have nothing more to say to me. Keep away from this room! When I am on my feet again — we will see.”
A frightened look, almost one of panic, came into Martin’s face. He started forward involuntarily, exclaiming: “Gervase, you don’t mean, to accuse me of this? You can’t think I would commit murder! ”
A queer little smile flitted across the Earl’s eyes. “You haven’t murdered me.”