He entered the room in his usual leisurely yet decided fashion and made Mr. Warburton a marvellous leg. Then he bore him off to inspect his mare, Jenny, of whom he was inordinately proud. By the time they returned to the parlour luncheon was served, and Mr. Warburton realised that he had scarcely any time left in which to plead his cause. My lord's servant hovered continually about the room, waiting on them, until his master bade him go to attend to the lawyer's valise. When the door had closed on his retreating form, Carstares leaned back in his chair, and, with a rather dreary little smile, turned to his companion. "You want to reason with me, I know, Mr. Warburton, and, indeed, I will listen an I must. But I would so much rather that you left the subject alone, believe me." Warburton sensed the finality in his voice, and wisely threw away his last chance. "I understand 'tis painful, my lord, and I will say no more. Only remember--and think on it, I beg!" The concern in his face touched my lord. "You are too good to me, Mr. Warburton, I vow. I can only say that I appreciate your kindness--and your forbearance. And I trust that you will forgive my seeming churlishness and believe that I am indeed grateful to you." "I wish I might do more for you, Master Jack!" stammered Warburton, made miserable by the wistful note in his favourite's voice. There was no time for more; the coach already awaited him, and his valise had been hoisted up. As they stood together in the porch, he could only grip my lord's hand tightly and say good-bye. Then he got hurriedly into the coach, and the door was slammed behind him. My lord made his leg, and watched the heavy vehicle move forward and roll away down the street. Then with a stifled sigh he turned and walked towards the stables. His servant saw him coming and went at once to meet him. "The mare, sir?" "As you say, Jim--the mare. In an hour." He turned and would have strolled back. "Sir--your honour!" He paused, looking over his shoulder. "Well?" "They're on the look-out, sir. Best be careful." "They always are, Jim. But thanks." "Ye--ye wouldn't take me with ye, sir?" pleadingly. "Take you? Faith, no! I've no mind to lead you into danger. And you serve me best by remaining to carry out my orders." The man fell back. "Ay, sir; but--but--" "There are none, Jim." "No, sir--but ye _will_ have a care?" "I will be the most cautious of men." He walked away on the word, and passed into the house. In an hour he was a very different being. Gone was the emerald ring, the foppish cane; the languid air, too, had disappeared, leaving him brisk and businesslike. He was dressed for riding, with buff coat and buckskin breeches, and shining top boots. A sober brown wig replaced the powdered creation, and a black tricorne was set rakishly atop.