"When you get down there, Ravensworth, you won't say that I wouldn't go, you know," said the Major. "Say I couldn't."
"What excuse can I make for you?"
"Any excuse that comes uppermost. Say I'm in bed with gout. I have charged Sanders to hold his tongue."
The day had quite passed before Mr. Ravensworth was able to start on his journey. It was dark when he reached Upper Marshdale. There he found Sanders and the solitary fly.
"Is Lord Level better?" was his first question.
"A little better this evening, sir, I believe; but he has again been off his head with fever, and Dr. Macferraty had, after all, to be called in," replied the man. "My lady is pretty nearly beside herself too."
"Have the police been called in yet?"
"No, sir; no chance of it; my lord and my lady won't have it done."
"It appears to be an old-fashioned place, Sanders," remarked Mr. Ravensworth, when they had reached the house.
"It's the most awkward turn-about place inside, sir, you ever saw; nothing but passages. But my lord never lives here; he only pays it promiscuous visits now and then, and brings down no servants with him. He was kept prisoner here, as may be said, through jamming his knee in a gateway; and then my lady came down, and we are putting up with all sorts of inconveniences."