with hands that trembled so they could scarcely fasten a buckle.
"Why can't I learn to mind me own business?" he groaned. "What right have I to be floggin' Master Bobby?"
The young woman whom Peter brought back decided before the end of the drive that the man beside her was crazy. All that she could get in return for her inquiries as to the gravity of the accident was the incoherent assertion:
"He's probably dead by now, ma'am, and if he is it's me that done it."
As they turned in at the Willowbrook gate Peter strained forward to catch sight of the house. A strange coupé was drawn up before the porte-cochère. He involuntarily pulled Arab to a standstill and looked away, but the nurse reached out and grasped the reins.
"Here, man, what is the matter with you? Hurry up! They may want me to help get the boy in."
Peter drove on and sat staring woodenly
