Passing out of the park, Charles set down his burden at the door of a small farm-house at the further end of the village, and knocked. For some time he stood waiting for an answer, and heard no sound save the cows and horses moving about in the warm straw-yard. The beasts were in their home. No terrible new morrow for them. He was without in the street; his home irrevocable miles behind him; still not a thought of flinching or turning back. He knocked again.
The door was unbarred. An old man looked out, and recognised him with wild astonishment.
"Mr. Charles! Good lord-a-mercy! My dear tender heart, what be doing out at this time a-night? With his portmantle, too, and his carpet-bag! Come in, my dear soul, come in. An' so pale and wild! Why, you'm overlooked, Master Charles."
"No, Master Lee, I ain't overlooked. At least not that I know of——"
The old man shook his head, and reserved his opinion.
"——But I want your gig to go to Stonnington."
"To-night?"
"Ay, to-night. The coach goes at eight in the morning; I want to be there before that."
"Why do'ee start so soon? They'll be all abed in the Chichester Arms."
"I know. I shall get into the stable. I don't know where I shall get. I must go. There is trouble at the Hall."