Though seen only in that half light, the outline of
man and beast were familiar to the stableman. Both seemed far spent; the
horse held low its head, and sweat stood caked and thick on neck and
heaving flanks, and dripped off inside down by the hocks.
"Ye've ridden hard, sir," said the groom, bustling forward to take the
horse.
The stranger said no word, but himself led the tired animal into an
empty stall. Yet, as the groom remembered later, of the other horses in
the stable, not one raised its head, or whinnied, or took any notice
whatever as the new-comer entered.
The stableman turned to lift his lantern, and when, an instant later, he
again faced about, he stared to find himself alone; the strange horseman
was nowhere to be seen. And the horse in the stall? Him the groom knew
well; there was no possibility of mistake; it was the well-known grey on
which Lord Derwentwater had ridden away to cast in his lot with Forster.
"Mistress! Mistress!" he cried, hurrying into the house, "has his
lordship come in? He's led his grey gelding into the stable the noo, and
niver a word wad he say to me or he gaed oot. An' I'm feared a's no weel
wi' him; he was lookin' sair fashed, an' kind o' white like."
"His lordship i' the inn? Guide us!" cried the landlady, snatching up a
tallow dip and hurrying into the unlit guest-room.
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