"Yes, that's right. What of it?"
"How is it you are riding Falcon instead of Mr. Moncrief?"
Paul did not at once answer. He wondered whether by answering he would be doing wrong. Yet what wrong could he do by speaking the truth. Paul was an honest boy—as honest as the day—and detested falsehood of any kind.
"Mr. Moncrief met with an accident—that's why," he answered doggedly.
"An accident"—the stranger exchanged glances with the other man. "That's the reason he's been left behind, is it? You've come in his stead—eh?"
Paul nodded. He felt somehow that he was giving Mr. Moncrief away, but he could not help himself.
"Thought so. You're going to Mr. Walter Moncrief, his brother—eh?"
Paul remained silent. He felt that he had said too much already.
"Tongue-tied—eh? Well, I won't trouble you to answer, for I know well enough my information's right. All you need do is just to hand over to me the packet you're taking to Mr. Walter Moncrief. I'll take care of it."
The stranger's information was only too accurate; Paul marvelled at its accuracy; but nevertheless Mr. Moncrief's words, "I feel that I can trust you. You will not part with the letter, whatever happens," came to him, and he determined not to give up the packet without a struggle.