"That is the bargain."
"Wait here, then, till I come back."
And his Grace left the room, carrying the door-key with him in an absent-minded manner. Mr. Rodney remained sitting on the bed in a convulsed attitude, staring at nothing. He had, of course, intended to lock and double-lock the door after the Duke's exit. Precluded from taking this simple measure of precaution, he was reduced to a jelly, and, as such, was naturally incapable of movement. He therefore remained where he was, and when his Grace, after a considerable interval, returned to the room, he found the gentleman who was to act for him in this affair still crouched in a heap upon the mattress, and looking far more dead than most ordinary living people can manage.
"Rodney," said the Duke, "he's gone! He's got away!"
Mr. Rodney nodded. He was incapable of speech.
"We shall follow him as soon as it's dawn. Get your coat and hat."
"I—I beg your pardon?"
"Get your coat and hat."
Mr. Rodney began to look for those articles in the tooth-brush dish. Not finding them there, he again collapsed, perhaps from surprise. The Duke, seeing his condition, rummaged in the wardrobe, produced his Ascot silk hat and a travelling ulster, handed them to him, and then remarked:
"Now follow me. We shall spend the rest of the night in my room considering the best course to take—pistols or swords—and directly it's light we'll break into the stables, saddle a couple of horses with our own hands, and ride across country to Bungay. I've got a map of the district. We shall go as the crow flies."