From inside the garden, which ran westward of the inn, Marion looked curiously for the arrival of another victim of the hazards of the road. Presently the roan trotted up, and the rider dismounted. He was a lean, spare young man, and from his garments and manner of speech as he greeted the innkeeper, Marion vaguely classed him as a lawyer's clerk.
'You have ridden hard, sir,' the innkeeper was saying. 'And a finer brute I never saw.'
Mine host had evidently no suspicion that Marion was within earshot; precisely the same approval he had cast on her greys.
'I ride on a hard errand, my good man,' said the new comer in a slightly pompous tone. 'Is there a smith hereabouts?'
The landlord indicated the cottages across the green. 'My boy shall take your horse, sir,' he said, 'and supper will be on the table presently. We have youth and beauty for our guests to-night, sir.'
'Aha!' said the stranger, squaring his shoulders and pulling his moustache--'and who may----?'
With a smile, Marion moved out of earshot.
Presently Zacchary came hesitatingly into the garden. Having won his point so easily, he was wishful for a word of peace with his lady. ''Twas for the best,' he said, his old eyes looking into the clear grey ones.
'I know it, Zacchary,' said Marion gently. 'Are the horses all right? What of Jennifer?'
Zacchary nodded. 'Jennifer will be all right to-morrow. Yonder Tony be a power o' help. A don't allow but her be as handy a man with the brutes as ever a clapped eyes on. Beats me how her knows such a terr'ble lot about horses, and Lunnon-born and bred.' The old groom moved a step nearer. 'Yonder be a Devon man now come,' he pursued, his voice dropping. 'Do 'ee look out for your purse, Mistress.'
Zacchary looked stolidly at his mistress. 'Like as not a rogue,' he insisted. 'A don't niver trust they Devon ikes. I should be main surprised if her haven't robbed somebody already, being that careful with the saddlebags and all.'
'I don't suppose his saddlebags contain anything more than a bundle of documents,' said Marion. 'You're as bad as old Mother Borlase, Zacchary.'
'And the man was that solemn and grand,' went on Zacchary, 'a body might a took un for Governor of Bodmin, no less.'