Lord Harry rushed into the
path and seized the horse as it swerved at the sight of him. There was
a leather pocket attached to the front of the saddle. "Search it!" he
cried to Iris, forcing the terrified animal back on its haunches. She
drew out a silver travelling-flask. One glance at the name engraved on
it told him the terrible truth. His trembling hands lost their hold.
The horse escaped; the words burst from his lips:
"Oh, God, they've killed him!"
THE END OF THE PROLOGUE
THE STORY
FIRST PERIOD
CHAPTER I
THE SOUR FRENCH WINE
WHILE the line to be taken by the new railway between Culm and Everill
was still under discussion, the engineer caused some difference of
opinion among the moneyed men who were the first Directors of the
Company, by asking if they proposed to include among their Stations the
little old town of Honeybuzzard.
For years past, commerce had declined, and population had decreased in
this ancient and curious place. Painters knew it well, and prized its
mediaeval houses as a mine of valuable material for their art. Persons
of cultivated tastes, who were interested in church architecture of the
fourteenth century, sometimes pleased and flattered the Rector by
subscribing to his fund for the restoration of the tower, and the
removal of the accumulated rubbish of hundreds of years from the crypt.
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