"I saw from the moment we appeared that you were being watched. I saw the man who was loitering on the pavement lean over to hear the address you gave to the cabman, and you were scarcely away before he was following you. But it was only just as he drove by, leaning a little forward in his hansom, that I saw his face. I recognized him for one of that woman's most dangerous confederates, and I knew then that some villainy was on foot. To cut a long story short, I came down unobserved in your train, followed you to Braster Grange, and was only a yard or two behind when this fellow, who acts as the woman's _chauffeur_, sprang out upon you. I was unfortunately a little two quick to the rescue, and received a smash on the head from your stick. Then you bolted, and I found myself engaged with a pair of them. On the whole I think that they got the worst of it." "The other one--was Lord Blenavon!" I exclaimed. "It was." "Then he is concerned in the plots which are going on against us," I continued. "I felt certain of it. What a blackguard!" "For his sister's sake," Colonel Ray said softly, "I want to keep him out of it if I can. Therefore I hit him a little harder than was necessary. He should be hors de combat for some time." "But why didn't you cry out to me?" I said. "I should not have run if I had known that I had an ally there." "To run was exactly what I wanted you to do," Ray answered. "You had the dispatch-box, and I wanted to see you safe away." I glanced at his bandaged head and arm. "I suppose that I ought to apologize to you," I said. "Under the circumstances," he declared, "we will cry quits." Then as we walked together in the glittering spring sunshine, this big silent man and I, there came upon me a swift, poignant impulse, the keener perhaps because of the loneliness of my days, to implore him to unravel all the things which lay between us. I wanted the story of that night, of my concern in it, stripped bare. Already my lips were opened, when round the corner of the rough lane by which Braster Grange was approached on this side came a doctor's gig. Ray shaded his eyes and gazed at its occupant. "Is this Bouriggs, Ducaine?" he asked, "the man who shot with us?" "It is Dr. Bouriggs," I answered. Ray stopped the gig and exchanged greetings with the big sandy-haired man, who held a rein in each hand as though he were driving a market wagon. They chatted for a moment or two, idly enough, as it seemed to me. "Any one ill at the Grange, doctor?" Ray asked at length. The doctor looked at him curiously. "I have just come from there," he answered. "There is nothing very seriously wrong." "Can you tell me if Lord Blenavon is there?" Ray asked. The doctor hesitated. "It was hinted to me, Colonel Ray," he said, "that my visit to the Grange was not to be spoken of. You will understand, of course, that the etiquette of our profession--"