Presently someone, a stranger, rode up and, dismounting, led his horse to the foot of the steps, and, raising his hat slightly, asked for Mr Hardy.
“He has just gone into Kimberley. He is not half an hour gone,” Miss Grace replied.
The man looked disappointed.
“That is unfortunate. I have come a long way to see him. I must see him. When will he be back?”
“This afternoon or this evening, I hope; but possibly not until to-morrow morning. But won’t you come in and rest a little?”
The man gave his horse to a boy and walked slowly up the steps. For some moments he made no reply, and at last, looking at her in an abstracted kind of way, apparently without really seeing her, muttered:
“Well, that is awkward!” He paused again, deep in thought, and, seeming to arrive at some conclusion, he said, “Miss Hardy, I must see your father; it is a matter almost of life and death, and I am almost certain to miss him if I follow him now. Will you allow me to wait until he returns?”
“I shall see Mr Whitton, my father’s agent, at luncheon, and if he can put you up you are very welcome to stay.”
The stranger bowed, inwardly a little amused perhaps at Mr Whitton’s position in the matter.
Miss Hardy suggested that possibly he had not yet breakfasted, and as the surmise proved entirely correct he was left to entertain himself while she went off to give the necessary orders.