"It's Master Ralph," he moaned. "I knew that I should find him like this. But when he went off so early last night I felt that that message had done those two ruffians. It made me feel easier in my mind. If I'd told him of my suspicions he would only have laughed at me. And to think that I should find him dead like this." "Perhaps he isn't dead," Walters suggested in a whisper. "Perhaps, not. You are a sensible young chap Walters. He isn't dead, either. I can feel him breathing. Good job it was a warm night. Good job, too, he lay under a tree so that the wet couldn't get at him. There's blood all over the back of his head. A nice murderous crack he got there. And here am I doddering like a silly old woman, whilst there is work to be done. Go over to the corner of the wood yonder, and pull up one of those gorsed hurdles there. Be sharp, boy." Walters returned presently, dragging after him a hurdle which was filled with gorse. And then on this, with their coats and vests under his head, they laid their unconscious burden. A faint groan broke from Ralph; he opened his eyes for a moment. "It's concussion of the brain, that's what it is," Slight said, with tears running down his face freely. "I've helped once or twice in the hunting field before now. Just you get hold of the other end of the hurdle, and start off on the left foot. We'll get Mr. Ralph as far as the dower house and send for a doctor." It was not far away to the dower house, the inmates of which were speedily aroused. A little time later and one of the footmen was riding for a doctor. They made Ralph as comfortable as possible. Lady Dashwood came into the dining-room presently, where Slight was waiting to see her. "This is a very dreadful business, Slight," she said. "Mr. Ralph was robbed and half murdered on his way from the Hall, they say. Strange that you found him." "Not so very strange, my lady," Slight replied, "seeing that I set out early to look for him. I thought last night when your message came----" "What message do you mean? I sent no message to the Hall." "Well, that's very strange! Mr. Mayfield is staying at the Hall. He told Mr. Ralph that you wanted to see him very particularly last night, and he left early in consequence. Call me an old fool if you like, my lady, but I had a fancy that those two men meant mischief to Mr. Ralph. I couldn't sleep for thinking of it. I came downstairs very early this morning, and I found that Mayfield, not yet undressed, helping himself to whiskey and soda. And there was mud on his dress shoes. I couldn't stand it any longer, so I set out at daybreak to look for I didn't quite know what. And I found Mr. Ralph. How those fellows managed it, I can't say, but they did manage it. And it is no fault of theirs that they're not a pair of cold-blooded murderers." The doctor came presently. He was upstairs for a long time, but when he came down again his face was not so grave as might be expected.