If Mr. Wembley would but come in and pray!"

Her husband scoffed. He was dressed only in his shirt and trousers, his
hair rough, his braces hanging down behind.

"Come in and pray!" he repeated. "Not he! Not Mr. Wembley! He's safe
tucked up in his bed, shivering with fear, I'll bet you. He's not
getting his feet wet to save a body or lend a hand here. Souls are his
job. You let the preacher alone, mother, and tell us what we're going to
do with this gentleman."

"The Lord only knows!" she cried, wringing her hands.

"Can I hire a motor-car from anywhere near?" Gerald asked.

"There's motor-cars, right enough," the innkeeper replied, "but not many
as would be fools enough to take one out. You couldn't see the road, and
I doubt if one of them plaguey things would stir in this storm."

"Such nonsense as you talk, Richard Budden!" his wife exclaimed sharply.
"It's twenty minutes past three of the clock, and there's light coming
on us fast. If so be as the young gentleman knows folks round about
here, or happens to live nigh, why shouldn't he take one of them
motor-cars and get away to some decent place? It'll be better for the
poor gentleman than lying here in a house smitten by the Lord."

Gerald rose stiffly to his feet. An idea was forming in his brain. His
eyes were bright. He looked at the body of John Dunster upon the floor,
and felt once more in his pocket.

"How far off is the garage?" he asked.

"It's right across the way," the innkeeper replied, "a speculation of
Neighbour Martin's, and a foolish one it do seem to me. He's two cars
there, and one he lets to the Government for delivering the mails."

Gerald felt in his pocket and produced a sovereign.

"Give this," he said, "to any man you can find who will go across
there and bring me a car--the most powerful they've got, if there's any
difference. Tell them I'll pay well. This--my friend will be much better
at home with me than in a strange place when he comes to his senses."

"It's sound common sense," the woman declared. "Be off with you,
Richard."

The man was looking at the coin covetously, but his wife pushed him
away.

"It's not a sovereign you'll be taking from the gentleman for a little
errand like that," she insisted sharply. "He shall pay us for what he's
had when he goes, and welcome, and if so be that he's willing to make it
a sovereign, to include the milk and the brandy and the confusion we've
been put to this night, well and good.