In the circle of the lantern's light the horseman, a big shambling fellow, stood swaying as if in extreme fatigue, now steadying himself by a hand on the animal's neck, now using the support of the groom's shoulder. His weak eyes peered and blinked, and at the sight of the gentlemen he made an attempt at a bow.
"My lord!" he gasped with a dry mouth. "Do I address my lord Cornbury?"
He did not wait for an answer. "I am from Chastlecote, my lord. I beg—I supplicate—a word with your lordship."
"Now?"
"Now, if it please you. My business is most urgent. It is life or death, my lord, the happiness or despair of an immortal soul."
"You are the tutor from Chastlecote, I think. You appear to have been trying your beast high."
"I have ridden to Weston and to Heythrop since midday."
"Have you eaten?"
"Not since breakfast, my lord." The man's eyes were wolfish with hunger and weariness.
"Then you shall eat, for there can be no business between a full man and a fasting. The groom will see to your horse. Follow me."