“No, o’ course not,” said Moggridge, sarcastically; “that there sunstroke you got in India prevented you, I suppose?”
“Have a cigar?”
To this overture Moggridge made no reply. Mr Beveridge laughed and continued lightly, “I had no idea you were so fond of exercise. I’d have given you a lead all round the park if I’d known.”
“You’d ’ave given me a lead all round the county if them gates ’ad been open.”
“It might have been difficult to stop this fiery animal,” Mr Beveridge admitted. “But now, Moggridge, the run is over. I think I can take Lady Alicia’s horse back to her myself.”
Moggridge smiled grimly.
“You won’t let go?”
“No fears.”
Mr Beveridge put his hand behind his back and silently drove the penknife a quarter of an inch into his mount’s hind quarters. In an instant his keeper felt himself being lifted nearly off his feet, and in another actually [pg 44] deposited on his face. Off went the accomplished horseman again at top speed, but this time back to Lady Alicia. He saw her standing by the side of the drive, her handkerchief to her eyes, a penitent and disconsolate little figure. When she heard him coming, she dried her eyes and looked up, but her face was still tearful.
“Well, I am back from my ride,” he remarked in a perfectly usual voice, dismounting as he spoke.