.

COUNTER-PLOT.
So soon as Sir Crispin had taken his departure, and whilst yet the beat of his horse's hoofs was to be distinguished above the driving storm of rain and wind without, Joseph hastened across the hall to the servants' quarters.

There he found his four grooms slumbering deeply, their faces white and clammy, and their limbs twisted into odd, helpless attitudes.
Vainly did he rain down upon them kicks and curses; arouse them he could not from the stupor in whose thrall they lay.
And so, seizing a lanthorn, he passed out to the stables, whence Crispin had lately taken his best nag, and with his own hands he saddled a horse.

His lips were screwed into a curious smile--a smile that still lingered upon them when presently he retraced his steps to the room where his brother sat with Kenneth.
In his absence the lad had dressed Gregory's wound; he had induced him to take a little wine, and had set him upon a chair, in which he now lay back, white and exhausted.
"The quarter of an hour is passed, sir," said Joseph coldly, as he entered.
Kenneth made no sign that he heard.

He sat on like a man in a dream.