"Yes."

"Not more than ten or twelve minutes' drive. I'll do my best and there
shall be no delay."

The two men thanked him and walked out to the station yard, where a
porter waited with the rest of Gifford's luggage.

"There is a gentleman here going to the _Lion_" he said with a rather
embarrassed air; "I told him your fly was engaged, sir; but he said
perhaps you would let him share it with you."

Kelson looked black. "I like the way some people have of taking things
for granted. Cheek, I call it. He had better wait or walk."

"The gentleman said he was in a hurry, sir," the porter observed
apologetically.

"No reason why he should squash us up in the fly," Kelson returned. "I'll
have a word with the gentleman. Where is he?"

"I think he is in the fly, sir."

"The devil he is! We'll have him out, Hugh. Infernally cool." And he
strode off towards the waiting fly.

"Better see what sort of chap he is before you go for him, Harry,"
Gifford said deprecatingly as he followed. He knew his masterful friend's
quick temper, and anticipated a row.