Mrs. Drake, springing up, made diversion.
"Why not have a steeplechase?" she cried.
She was one of these little women, all skin and bone, who cannot bear inaction, and whose wishes are carried out.
"Cross country," she said, silencing a growl from her husband. "You can ride the point-to-point course. We'll send round and tell everybody, and get them all here by twelve. And we'll put grooms with lanterns to mark the jumps."
The men jumped up, enthusiastic. The idea was just mad enough to appeal to their sporting instincts. In about three minutes the dining-room was deserted, and five motors were humming into the darkness to apprise and rally all who were reckless enough to join. In a neighbourhood always ready for a frolic there was no danger of the inspiration falling flat.
Barnaby himself was in the thick of it, mapping out preliminaries with the other men in the hall. The women clustered together, almost hysterical with excitement. And Susan drifted apart from the chattering circle, feeling outside it all.
She heard a gruff voice in her ear, and started. The tall, gaunt, hard-faced Duchess was standing over her.
"How are you getting on?" she said.
"It is a little strange to me," said Susan.
"But you are not moping," said the Duchess. "I can see you are made of better stuff. They are all mad, of course, but nobody will get hurt, if that is what you are afraid of."