At last, Bellew stopped the automobile at a place where a narrow lane, or cart track, branched off from the high road, and wound away between great trees.
"I leave you here," said he as he sprang from the car, "this is Dapplemere,—the farmhouse lies over the up-land, yonder, though you can't see it because of the trees."
"Is it far, Master George?"
"About half a mile."
"Here is the bag, sir; but—do you think it is—quite safe—?"
"Safe, John?"
"Under the circumstances, Master George, I think it would be advisable to—to take this with you." And he held out a small revolver. Bellew laughed, and shook his head.
"Such things aren't necessary—here in Arcadia, John,—besides, I have my stick. So good-bye, for the present, you'll stay at the 'King's Head,'—remember."
"Good-night, Master George, sir, goodnight! and good fortune go with you."
"Thank you!" said Bellew, and reached out his hand, "I think we'll shake on that, John!"