"It'll serve him right if he's killed. Hollo, I've just stepped on him; he's lying on the road. Driver!" Still no answer. "Stunned; lost his senses or something--not that he'd many senses to lose--cantankerous brute!"
"It's to be hoped that he hasn't lost them for ever, It'll be awkward for us if he has--especially for you. Your popularity in this neighbourhood does not appear to be so great that you can afford to throw any of it away."
"Confound my popularity! What do I care if I'm popular? If that brute is killed he brought it on himself; if I'd wrung his neck for him it'd have been no more than he deserved. I've got a lantern in my bag. I knew what sort of a hole, and what sort of beasts, I was coming to, and guessed that I'd better be prepared for the worst. If it isn't smashed to splinters I'll light it and have a look at him--you can see nothing in this darkness."
The lantern was not broken. Presently its rays were illuminating the surrounding gloom. She turned them on to the recumbent figure, not showing too much sympathy as she did so.
"Now then--move yourself! Don't pretend you're dead--I know better." Possibly by way of exhibiting her superior knowledge, she shook him by the shoulder. He groaned; she chose to interpret the sound as having a favourable significance. "He's not dead; he's all right. Broken a bone, or put his shoulder out, or something. He won't hurt if we leave him here; we could do nothing for him if we wanted to. Let's see what's happened to the cart."
It was not difficult to do that; the explanation of what had occurred was almost painfully simple. The horse, influenced by such eccentric guidance, had conducted the vehicle into a ditch. The jolt of the sudden descent had loosened one of the wheels; it lay in one direction, the cart in another. The question as to whether they were or were not to drive in it up to the house was finally settled. The horse, seemingly none the worse for his little experience, making no attempt to get up, reclined at his ease between the shafts, apparently under the not erroneous impression that he was as comfortable there as anywhere else. Mrs. Lamb recognised that, so far as any more riding was concerned, the fates were against her.
"We shall have to walk," she observed. "It's not so very far from here, along the avenue. Here's the gate."
She went to the gate, revealing its whereabouts by the light of her lantern. Mr. Luker moving towards her, spoke in lowered tones.
"Without wishing to alarm you unnecessarily, or endorsing your coachman's remarks about Mr. Cuthbert Grahrame's singular habits, I may tell you that my impression is that if he isn't walking about among the trees, somebody is."
"Luker, don't talk like that! Don't be a fool."