A moment Brion sat looking at him: it was not in his heart to deny a fellow-creature in such straits, and appearing so spent and broken. He was not of those, moreover, who in an emergency argue before they act. With a curt word he slipped his left foot out of the stirrup, and bent over. ‘Mount behind,’ said he, and as the fugitive struggled exhaustedly to heave himself to the horse’s crupper, fetched a strong hand under his armpit and helped him into place. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘hold on to my belt,’ and with a tap of his heel to his good steed’s belly, they were off. ‘Whither?’ he said over his shoulder, presently slowing down; and the breathless voice answered in his ear: ‘Whithersoever, so it lead to where they cannot find me.’ ‘You wish to hide?’ ‘O! indeed I do.’ ‘Listen to me,’ said Brion: ‘I can hide you, an you will, where none will dream to look. But it is a drear uncanny place, and without comfort to one in your condition.’ ‘Will it not serve a broken man to die in? I ask but rest and peace.’ ‘Well, hold on again. I will take you there.’ ‘“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was.” I can say no more now, Sir, than God bless you. You shall hear all presently.’ They sped on again, without another word between them. If Brion had a suspicion, he kept it to himself. His present fierce joy lay in circumventing brutality. Moreover he foresaw a certain distraction here to help him through the weary time of waiting. He went a wild roundabout way in order to avoid the chance of casual meetings, the bitter weather aiding him, and struck the ilex copse without having encountered a soul. Driving between the trees, he dismounted, first bidding the other hold firm by the saddle, while he tethered his horse to a branch, and afterwards helped him to the ground. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘if they, whoever they be, are after you, despatch must be the word.’ The man stood very weak. Brion put an arm about him--observing as he did so that his clothes were stiff and sodden, as if with half-dried sea-water--and supported him through the wood. In all these years, since that day of poignant memory, he had never once retraversed this road to the old well-house. But Sentiment must yield to Urgency. The natural bridge still spanned the moat, and they crossed it together--painfully and with difficulty on the stranger’s part; but, with his escort’s strong help, the journey was made at last, and the well-house reached. Once within, Brion lost no time, but, by aid of what daylight entered, found his way to the familiar contrivance, and laid bare the subterranean opening. Descending, then, he helped the other down after him, and, reaching the little stone-lined chamber, laid his own riding-cloak on the ground and the wounded man on it.