“That’s the Kilgorman road,” said I, guessing what was to follow.
“Kilgorman!” repeated she. “I should like to see the house.”
“By your leave,” said I, “his honour forbids any one to go there without his permission.”
She tossed her head.
“I am not any one,” she said. “I shall go where I please. Fall behind, sir; and if you are afraid to follow, stay where you are till I return.”
And without more words, she flicked her horse and cantered over the turf to the road.
Of course I followed. If I feared the place, it was all the less possible to allow her to go there alone.
It was one comfort to me that it was still broad daylight, so that the mystery, whatever it might be, would lose its chief terror.
She looked round once to see if I was following or not, and then, changing her canter to a trot, turned into the road.
Now his honour’s order to me about Kilgorman had been a very strict one, so much so that I suspected he had a shrewd idea who it was, eighteen months ago, had broken the window and knocked over the stand of arms in the kitchen.