"Simply leave it." "Yes, sir," said Pottinger.

"Would you mind putting it in my saddle-wallet, sir?
I won't touch it till my hands are clean." Stafford put the letter in the wallet, said a few words to Adonis and some of the other horses, and then left the stable.

He heard voices on the terrace, and, to avoid meeting anyone until he was compelled, he went down the slope of the lawn, and, seating himself on a bank, lit a cigarette.
From her window, Maude Falconer, now attired in a simple but exquisitely effective morning frock, could see him.

After watching him for a minute or two, she went to her writing-table and wrote two or three notes quickly, and, with these in her pocket, went down-stairs and through the hall to the stable court-yard.

Pottinger was still finishing off Adonis, and he drew himself up and saluted as she entered the stables.