“Yes, and—and the Duke—caught me, and—brought me here—and—and then he came—and saved me!”
The air blowing in from the window stirred the ruffles of my lord’s shirt, and blew a strand of her dark hair across Diana’s face. She caught it back and stared at Richard with a puzzled air.
“Pardon me, sir—but you are so like him!”
“I am his brother,” answered Richard shortly.
Her eyes grew round with surprise.
“His brother, sir? I never knew Mr. Carr had a brother!”
“Mr.———who?” asked Richard.
“Carr. It is not his name, is it? I heard the Duke call him Carstares—and—my lord.”
“He is the Earl of Wyncham,” answered Richard, stretching out a hand to relieve Andrew of the jug of water he was proffering.
“Good—gracious!” gasped Diana. “B-but he said he was a highwayman!”
“Quite true, madam.”
“True? But how—how ridiculous—and how like him!”
She soaked a handkerchief in the water, and bathed my lord’s forehead.
“He is not coming to in the least,” she said nervously. “You are sure ’tis not—not———”
“Quite. He’ll come round presently. You said he had ridden far?”
“He must have, sir—I wish he were not so pale—he was staying with the O’Haras at Maltby.”
“What? The O’Haras?”
“Yes—and he must have ridden from there—and his wound still so tender!” Again she kissed the limp hand.
Over by the window his Grace, his breath recovered, was eyeing Andrew through his quizzing-glass.
