Presently she shot past them at a canter; she was flushed in the face and her bun was askew; she leant back, pulling with all her weight. ``That girl will come to no good,'' said Jock.
They encountered her later at the covert. Her horse was sweating and lathered at the bridle but temporarily at rest cropping the tufts of sedge that lay round the woods. Miss Ripon was much out of breath, and her hands shook as she fiddled with veil, bun and bowler. John rode up to Jock's side.
``What's happening, Mr. Grant-Menzies?''
``Hounds are drawing the covert.''
``Oh.''
``Are you enjoying yourself?''
``Oh yes. Thunderclap's terribly fresh. I've never known her like this.''
There was a long wait as the horn sounded in the heart of the wood. Everyone stood at the corner of the big field, near a gate. Everyone, that is to say, except Miss Ripon who some minutes ago had disappeared suddenly, indeed in the middle of a sentence, at full gallop towards Hetton hills. After half an hour Jock said, ``They're calling hounds off.''
``Does that mean it's a blank?''
``I'm afraid so.''
``I hate this happening in our woods,'' said Ben. ``Looks bad.''
Indeed the Pigstantons were already beginning to forget their recent hospitality and to ask each other what did one expect when Last did not hunt himself, and to circulate dark reports of how one of the keepers had been observed last week burying Something late in the evening.
They moved off again, away from Hetton. Ben began to feel his responsibility. ``D'you think I ought to take the young gentleman home, sir?''
``What did Mr. Last say?''
``He said he could go as far as the covert. He didn't say which, sir.''
``I'm afraid it sounds as if he ought to go.''
``Oh, Mr. Grant-Menzies.''
``Yes, come along, Master John. You've had enough for today.''
``But I haven't had any.''
``If you come back in good time today your dad will be all the more willing to let you come out another day.''
``But there mayn't be another day. The world may come to an end. Please, Ben. Please, Mr. Grant-Menzies.''
``It is a shame they shouldn't have found,'' said Ben. ``He's been looking forward to it.''
``Still I think Mr. Last would want him to go back,'' said Jock.
So John's fate was decided; hounds went in one direction, he and Ben in another. John was very near tears as they reached the main road.
``Look,'' said Ben, to encourage him. ``Here comes Miss Ripon on that nappy bay. Seems as if she's going in, too. Had a fall by the looks of her.''
Miss Ripon's hat and back were covered with mud and moss. She had had a bad twenty minutes since her disappearance. ``I'm taking him away,'' she said. ``I can't do anything with him this morning.'' She jogged along beside them towards the village. ``I thought perhaps Mr. Last would let me come up to the house and telephone for the car. I don't feel like hacking him home in his present state. I can't think what's come over him,'' she added loyally. ``He was out on Saturday. I've never known him like this before.''
``He wants a man up,'' said Ben.
``Oh, he's no better with the groom and daddy won't go near him,'' said Miss Ripon, stung to indiscretion. ``At least ... I mean ... I don't think that they'd be any better with him in this state.''
He was quiet enough at that moment, keeping pace with the other horses. They rode abreast, she on the outside with John's pony between her and Ben.
Then this happened: they reached a turn in the road and came face to face with one of the single decker, country buses that covered that neighbourhood. It was not going fast and, seeing the horses, the driver slowed down still further and drew into the side. Miss Tendril's niece who had also despaired of the day's sport was following behind them at a short distance on her motor bicycle; she too slowed down and, observing that Miss Ripon's horse was likely to be difficult, stopped.
Ben said, ``Let me go first, miss. He'll follow. Don't hold too hard on his mouth and just give him a tap.''
Miss Ripon did as she was told; everyone in fact behaved with complete good-sense.
They drew abreast of the omnibus. Miss Ripon's horse did not like it, but it seemed as though he would get by. The passengers watched with amusement. At that moment the motor bicycle, running gently in neutral gear, fired back into the cylinder with a sharp detonation. For a second the horse stood rigid with alarm; then, menaced in front and behind, he did what was natural to him and shied sideways, cannoning violently into the pony at his side. John was knocked from the saddle and fell on the road while Miss Ripon's bay, rearing and skidding, continued to plunge away from the bus.
``Take a hold of him, miss. Use your whip,'' shouted Ben. ``The boy's down.''
She hit him and the horse collected himself and bolted up the road into the village, but before he went one of his heels struck out and sent John into the ditch, where he lay bent double, perfectly still.
Everyone agreed that it was nobody's fault.
It was nearly an hour before the news reached Jock and Mrs. Rattery, where they were waiting beside another blank covert. Colonel Inch stopped hunting for the day and sent the hounds back to the kennels. The voices were hushed which, five minutes before, had been proclaiming that they knew it for a fact, Last had given orders to shoot every fox on the place. Later, alter their baths, they made up for it in criticism of Miss Ripon's father, but at the moment everyone was shocked and silent. Someone lent Jock and Mrs. Rattery a car to get home in, and a groom to see to the hirelings.
``It's the most appalling thing,'' said Jock in the borrowed car. ``What on earth are we going to say to Tony?''
``I'm the last person to have about on an occasion like this,'' said Mrs. Rattery.
They passed the scene of the accident; there were still people hanging about, talking.
There were people hanging about, talking, in the hall at the house. The doctor was buttoning up his coat, just going.
``Killed instantly,'' he said. ``Took it full on the base of the skull. Very sad, awfully fond of the kid. No one to blame though.''
Nanny was there in tears; also Mr. Tendril and his niece; a policeman and Ben and two men who had helped bring up the body were in the servants' hall. ``It wasn't the kid's fault,'' said Ben.
``It wasn't anyone's fault,'' they said.
``He'd had a lousy day too poor little bastard,'' said Ben. ``If it was anyone's fault it was Mr. Grant-Menzie's making him go in.''
``It wasn't anyone's fault,'' they said.
Tony was alone in the library. The first thing he said, when Jock carne in was, ``We've got to tell Brenda.''
``D'you know where to get her?''
``She's probably at that school ... But we can't tell her over the telephone ... Anyway Ambrose has tried there and the flat but he can't get through ... What on earth are we going to say to her?''
Jock was silent. He stood in the fireplace with his hands in the pockets of his breeches, with his back to Tony. Presently Tony said, ``You weren't anywhere near were you?''
``No, we'd gone on to another covert.''
``That niece of Mr. Tendril's told me first ... then we met them coming up, and Ben told me all that happened ... It's awful for the girl.''
``Miss Ripon?''
``Yes, she's just left ... she had a nasty fall too, just after. Her horse slipped up in the village ... she was m a terrible state, poor child, what with that and ... John. She didn't know she'd hurt him until quite a time afterwards ... she was in the chemist's shop having a bandage put on her forehead, when they told her. She cut it falling. She was in a terrible state. I sent her back in the car ... it wasn't her fault.''