"Yes, but I despatched him on an errand, and rode back alone."
"Should you know the woman again, sir?" asked Lizzy.
"I think I should know her scream. It was as shrill as a sea-gull's. Her head was enveloped in some covering that concealed her face; probably the hood of the grey cloak."
"Who's to know that it was not a man?" resumed Lizzy Dene.
"If so, he wore petticoats," said Mr. Chandos. "A seat at last!" he added, as we approached one. "I will remain here whilst you go and send two of the men."
"Can't we get you on further, sir?" said Lizzy.
"No. I have taxed your strength too much in this short distance. And my own also, through endeavouring to ease my weight to you."
In point of fact, the weight had been felt, for the one foot seemed quite powerless. He sat down on the bench, his brow white and moist with pain, and motioned to us to go on. "I think they had better bring my mother's garden-chair," he said.
"I'll run and send it," cried Lizzy. "Miss had better stop with you, sir."
"What for?" asked Mr. Chandos.