"Yes, sir, and I took the liberty of sending for Gabriel Martin to
look after him."
"Quite right, John. Tell Martin to have him saddled at once."
"You are--going out, sir?"
"Yes, I am going--out."
Peterby bowed and crossed to the door, but paused there, hesitated,
and finally spoke:
"Sir, may I ask if you intend to ride--Londonwards?"
"No," answered Barnabas, stifling a sigh, "my way lies in the
opposite direction; I am going--back, to the 'Coursing Hound.' And
that reminds me--what of you, what are your plans for the future?"
"Sir," stammered Peterby, "I--I had ventured to--to hope that you
might--take me with you, unless you wished to--to be rid of me--"
"Rid of you, John!" cried Barnabas, turning at last, "no--never. Why,
man, I need you more than ever!"
"Sir," exclaimed Peterby, flushing suddenly, "do you--really mean that?"
"Yes, John--a thousand times, yes! For look you, as I have proved
you the best valet in the world--so have I proved you a man, and it
is the man I need now, because--I am a failure."
"No, no!"
"Yes, John. In London I attempted the impossible, and today
I--return home, a failure.
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