I intended that this should be a busy day, so without making explanations I went to the stable, told the coachman I wished to be driven to the station, and was soon whizzing over the hills toward Katonah. The coachman, an Irishman, introduced the subject of the ghost as soon as we were out of sight of the house.
"The ole lady's dipped; she's dipped, sir," he remarked leadingly.
"It's catching," I answered; "so you'd better forget it."
He thereupon settled glumly to his driving. As we crossed the bridge near where I had first encountered Hezekiah in the apple-orchard, I spied her trudging across a meadow, and she waved her hand gaily. Meadows and streams and stars! Of such were Hezekiah's kingdom.
I wondered how Wiggins and the other gentlemen at the Prescott Arms were faring. My question was partially answered a second later, as we passed the road that forked off to the inn. On a stone by the roadside sat Lord Arrowood, desolately guarding a kit-bag and a suit-case. He was dressed in a shabby Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, and sucked a pipe.
On a stone by the roadside sat Lord Arrowood.
I bade the driver pause, and greeted the nobleman affably.
"Can I give you a lift? You seem to be bound for the station, and I'm taking a train myself."