"Well, we may stop before, but I know we stop at Friars Rory, because that's where I get out." I turned to her open-mouthed. She was consulting a wrist-watch and did not see the look on my face. Friars Rory was where I was bound for. We had run through the station ten minutes ago. I knew the place well. I had just time to recover, when she looked up. "We're late now," she said. "I expect that's why we're going so fast." "You know," I said, "I don't believe you asked either." "If this was the right train? Well, I've used it, going down to hunt, for two seasons. Besides, I told a porter--" "Can't have understood what you said," said I, producing my cigarette-case. "Will you smoke? There's plenty of time." "What d'you mean?" "I was going to Rory, too. My dear, if this train really stops there, there must be the very deuce of a hairpin corner coming, or else we're on the Inner Circle. We've passed it once, you know, about nine miles back, I should think. No, twelve. This is Shy Junction." We roared between the platforms. "Wonderful how they put these engines along, isn't it?" But my companion was staring out of the window. The next moment she swung round and looked at me wildly. Gravely I offered her a cigarette. She waved me away impatiently. "Have we really passed Rory?" she said. "Ages ago," said I. "Your porter can't possibly have under--" She stamped a small foot, bright in its patent-leather shoe. "Aren't you going to do anything?" she demanded. "I am already composing a letter to the absent traffic superintendent which will spoil his holiday. I shall say that, in spite of the fact that the dark lady with the eyes and the seal-skin coat asked the porter with the nose--" "Idiot. Can't you do anything now?" "I can wave to the engine-driver as we go round a bend if you think it's any good, or, of course, there's always the communication cord, only--" I broke off and looked at her. There was trouble in her great eyes. The small foot tapped the floor nervously. One gloved hand gripped the arm of her seat. I could have sworn the red lips quivered a moment ago. I leaned forward. "Lass," I said, "is it important that you should be at Friars Rory this morning?" She looked up quickly. Then, with a half-laugh, "I did want to rather," she said. "But it can't be helped. You see, my mare, Dear One--she's been taken ill, and--and--oh, I am a fool," she said, turning away, her big eyes full of tears. "No, you're not," said I sturdily, patting her hand. "I know what it is to have a sick horse. Buck up, lass! We'll be there within the hour." "What d'you mean?" she said, feeling in her bag for a handkerchief. "I have a plan," said I mysteriously. "Can't you find it?" She felt in the pocket of her coat and turned to the bag again. "I'm afraid my maid must have--" I took a spare handkerchief from my breast-pocket. "Would you care to honour me by using this to--er--"