Reaching the hall I bade a footman summon my carriage, but on second thoughts countermanded the order and, donning hat and cloak, set out to walk home to my chambers. A wind was abroad and I walked bareheaded to cool the fevered throbbing of my temples, but this wind found voices to mock me and at my heels ran demons, gibbering obscenities.
Reaching my door at last, I thundered on the knocker until it opened, and brushing past the pallid Clegg, bade him order my horse.
"Horse, sir?" he repeated, a note of interest in his usually toneless voice. "Do you propose to go riding, sir?"
"I do!"
"Yes, sir—which horse do you—?"
"Wildfire. Have him brought round at once!"
"Very good, sir!"
Not waiting for Clegg's assistance, I slipped off my evening garments and was pulling on my riding boots when I heard the tattoo of Wildfire's impatient hoofs upon the roadway.
"What time may I expect you back, sir?" enquired Clegg, as I jingled downstairs.
"I cannot say. I may be late or very early so—get to bed."