“Dear Godolphin,
“I am ill and lonely, and have halted here midway in my journey for a night’s rest before going on again, which I must do at six in the morning. Come in for half an hour—there’s a good fellow! I don’t know when we may meet again. The regiment embarks to-morrow; and can’t embark without me. Come at once, or I shall be gone to bed.
“G. St. Aubyn.”
One burning, almost irrepressible desire had hung over George all the evening—that he could run up to Verrall’s and learn the cause of his absence. Mr. Verrall’s absence in itself would not in the least have troubled George; but he had a most urgent reason for wishing to see him: hence his anxiety. To leave his guests to themselves would have been scarcely the thing to do: but this note appeared to afford just the excuse wanted. At any rate, George determined to make it an excuse. The note was dated from the principal inn of the place.
“One of the waiters brought this, I suppose, Pierce?” he said to the butler.
“Yes, sir.”
“My compliments, and I will be with Captain St. Aubyn directly.”
George went into the room again, and drew his brother aside.
“Thomas, you’ll be host for me for half an hour,” he whispered. “St. Aubyn has just sent me an urgent summons to go and see him at the Bell. He was passing through Prior’s Ash, and is forced to halt and lie up: he’s very ill. I’ll soon be back again.”
Away he went. Thomas felt unusually well that evening, and exerted himself for his brother. Once out of the house, George hesitated. Should he dash up to Lady Godolphin’s Folly first, and ease his mind, or should he go first to the Bell? The Bell was very near, but in the opposite direction to Ashlydyat. He turned first to the Bell, and was soon in the presence of Captain St. Aubyn, an old friend, now bound for Malta.