"I've brought this thing, as you call it, which is as decent a cart as ever you saw, and more decent maybe than you deserve to sit in, to carry the person as calls herself Mrs. Cuthbert Grahame to Pitmuir, and I'm beginning to wish I hadn't." "Why is there no fly here?" "Because Sam Harris wouldn't let his come." "Why not? I ordered it." "You ordered it! Mr. Harris said that he wasn't going to have the likes of you sitting in a fly of his--that's why. So he sent this cart instead. If this cart isn't good enough, I'll take it back at once. I'll take it back anyhow if there's much more talking." The lady and her solicitor exchanged glances. While they were apparently seeking for words the driver volunteered another remark, in keeping with those which had gone before. "There's another thing. I'm to be paid before I started; Mr. Harris said I was." "You'll be paid when you reach Pitmuir." "Shall I? Then I'll say good-night." The man gathered up his reins as if about to depart. "Stop! What are you doing? You appear to be a pleasant character." "From all accounts, ma'am, that's more than can be said of you." Under other circumstances the fellow might perhaps have regretted his temerity. Mrs. Lamb was not a lady to quietly endure impertinence from any one. As matters stood she was at his mercy, a fact of which he was evidently aware. She had to choke back her resentment as best she could. "How much do you mean to charge?" "There's twelve shillings for driving you; there's three for waiting; there's five for myself--that's a sovereign." "A sovereign!--monstrous!" "Very well; there's no call for you to pay it. I tell you again, I'll say good-night." Mr. Luker interposed. "How far is it?" "Better than five miles." "And how long will it take, in this delectable vehicle of yours, to get us there?" "An hour or thereabouts. The road's none so good, and it's not easy going on a night like this. It's thicker over yonder." "And for an hour, or thereabouts, I'm to be jolted, over a bad road, through this death-like mist. Thank you; the prospect is not inviting. I think we had better go over in the morning. Where, in the neighbourhood, can we get a night's lodging?" "Nowhere." "Nowhere? Are you sure?" "If you think you know better than me you'd better go and look for yourself. I tell you there's not a house round here where they'd have you under the roof--nor her either. I wouldn't, nor yet Mr. Harris, nor any one else." "This is delightful--thoroughly delightful." Anything less suggestive of delight than his tone could hardly be imagined. The lady spoke. "I telegraphed to an old servant of mine, Martha Blair, to go up to the house and to take some one with her, or if she couldn't go herself then to get two other girls to go, to light fires and to make things ready for my coming. Do you know who has gone?"