"Let him come in. You need not leave us, Miss Hereford," he added to me, for I was rising. "Dexter will thank you for a cup of tea."
"Well, now, Mr. Chandos, how was this?" cried the agent, as he bustled in, wiping his red face. Mr. Dexter gave me the idea of being always in a hurry.
"I can hardly tell you," replied Mr. Chandos. "I don't quite know myself."
"News was brought into my office that Mr. Chandos's horse had thrown him, and he was supposed to be dying. So I caught up my hat and came rushing off. Hickens says it is only an injury to the ankle."
"And that's enough, Dexter, for it is keeping me a prisoner. However, it might have been as you heard, so I must not grumble. The question is, what ill-working jade caused it?"
"Ill-working jade?" repeated Mr. Dexter. "Was it not an accident? I don't understand."
"An accident maliciously perpetrated. Some venomous spirit in the guise of a woman sprang before my horse with a shouting scream, and threw up her arms in his face. Black Knave wont stand such jokes. I was riding carelessly, and lost my seat."
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed Mr. Dexter, after a pause, given to digest the words. "Who was it? Is she taken?"
"A tramp, probably. Though why she should set on me I am unable to conjecture. Where she vanished to, or what became of her, I know not. I raised myself on my elbow directly I could collect my wits, which I assure you were somewhat scattered, but the coast was already clear: and I had not been down a minute then."
"What was the woman like?" pursued the agent, as I handed him some tea.