Again the horse neighed.
They saw the figure come on haltingly out of the light into the blackness of the shadow of the gate, pass through, and emerge into the moonlight of the court.
Then both saw that the lame horse that had been deserted on the moor had followed, limping and slowly, as it was in pain, after the other horse. Barbara went at once to the poor beast, saying, ‘I will put you in a stall,’ but in another moment she returned with a bundle in her hand.
‘What have you there?’ asked Martin, who was mounting his horse, pointing with his whip to what she carried.
‘I found this strapped to the saddle.’
‘Give it to me.’
‘It does not belong to you. It belongs to the other—to Jasper.’
‘Let me look through the bundle; perhaps by that means we may discover his name.’
‘I will examine it when you are gone. I will not detain you; ride on for the doctor.’
‘I insist on having that bundle,’ said Martin. ‘Give it me, or I will strike you.’ He raised his whip.