"What's the matter?" he inquired. "The lady says as there's some one been and hurted hisself down the lane," began the man. "We can send a man up from Hart's Cottages," and he pointed with his whip, "but if we stop, sir--" "Stop!" was the interruption in imperative tones. "Of course we must," and he jumped out as he spoke. "Follow us," he said sharply to the driver, who thereupon proceeded to obey, murmuring some thing to the effect that the train would be gone, but that "it'll be no fault o' mine." "Nobody said it would be," my companion called back, and then we walked on the few paces to where Moore was propped up in a half-sitting posture against the wall. "I was as quick as possible," said the stranger, though already he hardly seemed such. Circumstances sometimes lead to familiarity so quickly. "Is he all right--the boy; your brother?" "Yes," I said. "I don't think the pain is very bad. I am sure you have been wonderfully quick, and I don't know how to thank you. And how kind that poor Mr Grey has been!" I felt my companion glance at me almost sharply. "I told you," he said, "that they are the kindest-hearted people possible. But--may I ask why you speak of him as `poor Mr Grey'?" I was surprised, almost startled by the question. I had somehow taken it for granted, not only that this visitor was completely _au fait_ of the Greys' peculiar position, but that he must be aware that the mystery concerning the Grim House was common talk in the neighbourhood. "Oh!" I replied, rather lamely, "because, of course, everything about them seems so strange and sad!" There was no time for him to reply, for we had now reached Moore, and at once set to work to get him into the fly, which drew up at the place where we stopped, the driver, rather snubbed by the very peremptory tone assumed by his "fare," was much on the alert to obtrude his benevolent instincts. "Dear, dear!" he exclaimed. "It's a bad business. I'm afraid there's bones broke! Did you fall far, sir?" he went on, to Moore, evidently anxious to get all the information he could for the delectation of his cronies at the White Hart, or whatever was the name of the inn. But before Moore replied, our friend in need did so for him. "You don't need to fall far to sprain your ankle," he remarked quickly, "and I hope it is nothing worse than that. A slip on level ground is quite enough sometimes." "Yes," I agreed; "indeed I often wonder that we hold together as we do, considering our complicated bones and joints." The driver, imagining himself gifted with great discrimination, evidently thought we were trying to encourage Moore, and took his cue accordingly. "Young bones ain't so hard to mend as old ones," he said philosophically, as he closed the door; "and where shall I drive to if you please?" "To Mr Wynyard's--the Manor-house," I answered promptly, and off we set, this time at a moderate speed, all thought of train-catching eliminated from our conductor's mind.