She succeeded in a moment or two, and when he looked up the blush had
gone and something like amusement was sharing the sweet girlish
confusion in her grey eyes.
"This is absurd!" she said. "It is to be hoped Jason or none of the men
will see me; they would think I had gone mad; and I should never hear
the last of it. The shed is by that tree."
"I see it--just across the road. Please keep a tight hold of my
shoulder; I should never forgive myself if you slipped."
"I am not in the least likely to slip," she said.
Then suddenly, just as they were on the edge of the road, she uttered
an exclamation of surprise rather than embarrassment, for a carriage
and pair came round the corner and almost upon them.
Stafford stopped Adonis to let the carriage pass, but the coachman
pulled up in response to a signal from someone inside, and a man thrust
his head out of the window and regarded them at first with surprise and
then with keen scrutiny.
He was an elderly man, with a face which would have been coarse but for
its expression of acuteness and a certain strength which revealed
itself in the heavy features.
"Can you tell me the way to Sir Stephen Orme's place?" he asked in a
rough, harsh voice.
Ida was about to slip down, but she reflected that the mischief, if
there were any, was done now; and to Stafford's admiration, she sat
quite still under the gaze of the man's keen, sarcastic eyes.
"Yes; keep straight on and round by The Woodman: you will see the house
by that time," said Stafford.
"Thanks! Drive on, coachman," said the man; and he drew in his head
with a grim smile, and something like a sneer on his thick lips that
made Stafford's eyes flash.