"And indeed," thought I,
"if my Master hides one thing from me, why not another? The stuff may
indeed be stored with us: though I will not believe it without proof."
The Commissioner would come, beyond a doubt. To discover my Master's
absence would quicken his suspicions: to deny him admittance would
confirm them.
I reached home, yet could get no sleep for my quandary. But a little
before the dawning, while I did on my clothes, there came a knocking at
the gate followed by a clatter of hoofs in the courtyard; and hurrying
down, with but pause to light my lantern, I found my Master there and
helping the strange lady to dismount, with the porter and two sleepy
grooms standing by and holding torches. Beneath the belly of the lady's
horse stood her hound, his tongue lolling and his coat a cake of mire.
The night had been chilly and the nostrils of the hard-ridden beasts
made a steam among the lights we held, while above us the upper frontage
of the house stood out clear between the growing daylight and the waning
moon poised above the courtlege-wall in the south-west.
"Hey! Is that Paschal?" My Master turned as one stiff with riding.
His face was ghastly pale, yet full of a sort of happiness: and I saw
that his clothes were disordered and his boots mired to their tops.
"Good luck!" cried he, handing the lady down. "We can have supper at
once."
"Supper?" I repeated it after him.
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