“Up Baronmead way.  It was hours ago.”

Dimsdale considered.  “Shall we send and make inquiries at Baronmead, Sir Giles?”

“No, I’m damned if I do!” said Sir Giles.

Dimsdale considered again.  “Was her ladyship riding with anyone in particular?” he asked next.

“No, I don’t think so.  Stay!  I believe I saw that Errol bounder talking to her—­the one who was here the other day.  But I forget when.  Anyhow”—­his voice rising again—­“I won’t have any traffic with them.  I’ve said I won’t, and I won’t!”

Dimsdale grunted.  “Seems to me the only thing to do, Sir Giles.  You can’t leave her lady ship to die under a hedge maybe, and not do anything to find her.”

He spoke very deliberately, looking straight into his master’s bloodshot eyes as he did so.

“It wouldn’t be hardly right, Sir Giles,” he pointed out gravely.  “It’s likely that young Mr. Errol will be able to give us a clue, and we can’t leave any stone unturned, being such a serious matter.  I’ll send on my own responsibility if you like, Sir Giles.  But send we must.”

The bystanders glanced uneasily at one another in the silence that followed this bold speech.  The old butler’s temerity was unheard of.  Not one among them would have dared thus to withstand the master to his face.  They waited, nervously expectant, for the vials of wrath to descend.

Old Dimsdale waited too, still firmly watching Sir Giles.  If he felt any anxiety on his own account, however, it was not apparent.  Nor did he display any relief when the unpleasant tension passed and Sir Giles with a shrug turned away from him.

“Oh, go your own way, and be damned to you!  I don’t care what you do.  Don’t stand gaping there, you fools!  Get to your work!  Better send for the vet.  Can’t afford to have a valuable animal spoilt.  Dimsdale, take some brandy and hot water up to my room at once, before you do anything else.  Do you hear?”

And with that he tramped within, leaving an atmosphere of mingled relief and indignation behind him.

But if his words were callous, the soul of the man was far from easy as he mounted to his room.  He flung himself into the nearest chair when he arrived there and sat with eyes fixed sullenly before him.  He ought to go in search of her, of course, but he was powerless.  His brain was a smouldering furnace in which anxiety and anger strove luridly for the mastery.  But through it all he sat there torpidly staring.  His body felt as though it were weighted with leaden fetters.

He heard a step in the passage, but did not turn his head.  Someone knocked discreetly.  He heard, but he took no notice.  The door opened softly, and old Dimsdale entered.

“We have news, Sir Giles.”

Sir Giles neither looked at him nor spoke.  He continued to glare heavily into space.

Dimsdale paused beside him.  “A messenger has just come from Baronmead in their motor, Sir Giles,” he said, speaking very distinctly.  “Her ladyship has had a fall, and has been taken there.  Mr. Errol begs that you will go back in the motor, as her ladyship’s condition is considered serious.”