"Good-bye, sir. Take care of Black Knave—that he does not throw you again."
He went away laughing at his own remark on the gloves, or mine on Black Knave, went up to the west wing, and was down again in a minute. The horse was a favourite, and he patted him and spoke to him before mounting. The groom rode a bright bay horse; a fine animal also.
Surely there was no harm in my looking from the window to watch them away! But Mrs. Penn, who came into the oak-parlour at the moment, appeared to think there was. Her lips were drawn in and her brow had a frown on it as I turned to her. With that want of ceremony that distinguished her customary behaviour to me, she flung herself back in an easy-chair, her arms hanging down listlessly, her feet stretching out. Her gown was a bright muslin of beautiful hue and texture; her glowing hair had purple ribbons in it and black lace lappets.
"What a place this Chandos seems to be!" she exclaimed. "Did you ever see such a house, Miss Hereford? That visit of the police—riding up with their naked sabres!"
"The sabres were in their sheaths."
"They clanked; I know that. I can tell you it gave me a turn. And after all, after terrifying us nearly to death, Mr. Chandos, I hear, entertained them amicably at supper."
"It was as well to be civil; it was not their fault that they came. A trick had been played on them."
"A trick? I don't understand."
"A note was written in Mr. Chandos's name to the inspector of police at Warsall, asking for mounted officers to be sent over. They supposed they were coming to take into custody the person who had been playing tricks at Chandos. Tricks: that was the word used."
Mrs. Penn stared at me. "Who wrote the note?"