"I've just sent for Black Rose," said Kilgour, in his ordinary tone. "He was keen to ride her." He raised his voice. "—Here, Barnaby, you're wanted!"
But the messengers were returning already, and strange cars were dashing up. The hubbub was at its height. It was impossible to win Barnaby's attention. He turned his head impatiently as Kilgour made a grab at him.
"What is it now?" he said. "Oh, don't bother me, there's a good fellow. They want to settle how—Jim, Jim, is that you? Have you brought the horses?"
He ran down the steps.
A clatter of hoofs was audible in the darkness, and a groom, riding one horse and leading another pulled up below the steps, steadying his charges as they flung up their bewildered heads, blinking, kicking up the gravel.
"Ah, my beauty!" said Barnaby, in the voice of a lover. "Did you think I was dead?"
"Is that Black Rose?" called one of the men crowding to the door. "Wasn't she sold?"
"She was. But I'll have her back," he shouted up to them, rubbing the mare's dark head. "To the half of my kingdom I'll buy her back!"
The women, wrapped thickly, and disguised in furs, were streaming into the hall. Julia Kelly, who had lingered to the last, and was not yet ready, rushed down impulsively to his side.
"Oh, Barnaby, is that Black Rose? Dear thing, is she there? Oh, Barnaby—!"