Philip took up the money, and left the room.  In an instant he came back again, glanced furtively at Mr. Donkin’s face, and then, once more having recourse to brushing his hat, he said, in a low voice—­

‘You’ll not be hard upon him, sir, I hope?’

‘I must do my duty,’ replied Mr. Donkin, a little sternly, ’without any question of hardness.’

Philip, discomfited, left the room; an instant of thought and Mr Donkin had jumped up, and hastening to the door he opened it and called after Philip.

’Hepburn—­Hepburn—­I say, he’ll be taken to York as soon as may be to-morrow morning; if any one wants to see him before then, they’d better look sharp about it.’

Philip went quickly along the streets towards Mr. Dawson’s, pondering upon the meaning of all that he had heard, and what he had better do.  He had made his plans pretty clearly out by the time he arrived at Mr. Dawson’s smart door in one of the new streets on the other side of the river.  A clerk as smart as the door answered Philip’s hesitating knock, and replied to his inquiry as to whether Mr. Dawson was at home, in the negative, adding, after a moment’s pause—­

’He’ll be at home in less than an hour; he’s only gone to make Mrs Dawson’s will—­Mrs. Dawson, of Collyton—­she’s not expected to get better.’

Probably the clerk of an older-established attorney would not have given so many particulars as to the nature of his master’s employment; but, as it happened it was of no consequence, the unnecessary information made no impression on Philip’s mind; he thought the matter over and then said—­

’I’ll be back in an hour, then.  It’s gone a quarter to four; I’ll be back before five, tell Mr. Dawson.’

He turned on his heel and went back to the High Street as fast as he could, with a far more prompt and decided step than before.  He hastened through the streets, emptied by the bad weather, to the principal inn of the town, the George—­the sign of which was fastened to a piece of wood stretched across the narrow street; and going up to the bar with some timidity (for the inn was frequented by the gentry of Monkshaven and the neighbourhood, and was considered as a touch above such customers as Philip), he asked if he could have a tax-cart made ready in a quarter of an hour, and sent up to the door of his shop.

‘To be sure he could; how far was it to go?’

Philip hesitated before he replied—­

’Up the Knotting Lane, to the stile leading down to Haytersbank Farm; they’ll have to wait there for some as are coming.’

’They must not wait long such an evening as this; standing in such rain and wind as there’ll be up there, is enough to kill a horse.’

‘They shan’t wait long,’ said Philip, decisively:  ’in a quarter of an hour, mind.’

He now went back to the shop, beating against the storm, which was increasing as the tide came in and the night hours approached.