At last, bit by bit, she managed to give him a somewhat disjointed account of what had occurred. “I think I must have been stunned for a little when I fell,” she said. “I can’t remember anything after stepping right off into space, it seemed, till--oh, ages afterwards--- I found myself lying here. And when I tried to stand, I found I’d hurt my ankle and that I couldn’t put my foot to the ground. So”--with a weak little attempt at laughter--“I--I just sat down again.” Blaise gave vent to a quick exclamation of concern. “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” she reassured him hastily. “Only a strain. But I can’t walk on it.” Then, suddenly clinging to him with a nervous dread: “Oh, take me away, Blaise--take me home!” “I will. Don’t be frightened--there’s no need to be frightened any more, my Jean.” “No, I know. I’m not afraid--now.” But he could hear the sob of utter nerve stress and exhaustion back of the brave words. “Well, I’ll take you home at once,” he said cheerfully. “But, look here, you’ve no coat on and you’re wet with mist.” “I know. My coat’s at the bungalow. I left in a hurry, you see”--whimsically. The irrepressible Peterson element, game to the core, was reasserting itself. “Well, we must fetch it------” “No! No!” Her voice rose in hasty protest. “I won’t--I can’t go back!” “Then I’ll go.” “No--don’t! Geoffrey might be there----” “So much the better”--grimly. “I’d like five minutes with him.” Tormarin’s hand tightened fiercely on the hunting-crop he carried. “But he’s more likely lost his way in the mist and fetched up far enough away. Probably”--with a short laugh--“he’s still searching Dartmoor for! you. You’d be on his mind a bit, you know! Wait here a minute while I ride up to the bungalow----” But she clung to his arm. “No, no! Don’t go! I--I can’t be left alone--again.” The fear was coming back to her voice and Blaise, detecting it, abandoned the idea at once. “All right, little Jean,” he said reassuringly. “I won’t leave you. Put my coat round you”--stripping it off. “There--like that.” He helped her into it and fastened it with deft fingers. “And now I’m going to get you up on to Orion and we’ll go home.” “I shall never get up there,” she observed, with a glance at the roan’s great shoulders looming through the mist. “I shan’t be able to spring--I can only stand on one foot, remember.” Blaise laughed cheerily. “Don’t worry. Just remain quite still--standing on your one foot, you poor little lame duck!--and I’ll do the rest.” She felt his arm release its clasp of her, and a moment later he had swung his leg across the horse and was back in the saddle again. With a word to the big beast he dropped the reins on to his neck and, turning towards Jean, where she stood like a slim, pale ghost in the moonlight, he leaned down to her from the saddle. “Can you manage to come a step nearer?” he asked. She hobbled forward painfully. “Now!” he said.