Because she could think of no good reason why he should not go there and it was not far from where they were at the moment, Mariota directed him to what was called the Worcester Road.
They drove along it until they came to the place where Jeremy had held up the carriage and the Earl had appeared on the other side of the road.
“This is – it,” she said in a rather small voice as the Earl drew in his horses.
There was no need to point out the large boulder against which he had hit his head when he had fallen.
She stood looking at it and remembered all too vividly how at the shot from her pistol the stallion had reared up and he had been thrown from its back onto the stone.
“It really looks rather formidable,” the Earl said. “Perhaps I should take it home as a souvenir?”
“No – forget it!
