At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, and they started for
the asylum--coachman and two more in brave liveries; two outriders.
Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the wheelers, two fresh
horses having been sent on at night.
They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, which was left
ostentatiously open, and soon drew up at the hall door, and set many a
pale face peeping from the upper windows.
The door opened; the respectable servant came out with a respectful
air.
"Is Mr. Salter at home, sir?"
"No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day."
Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she might be allowed
to see Mr. Coyne.
"Certainly, madam. I'll tell him at once," was the reply.
Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett requested her people to
open the carriage door, and she was in the act of getting out when Mr.
Coyne appeared, a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored,
vulgar face, liable to a subservient pucker; he wore it directly at
sight of a fine woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and fine horses.
"Mr. Coyne, I believe," said Lady Bassett, with a fascinating smile.
"At your service, madam."
"May I have a word in private with you, sir?"
"Certainly, madam."
"We have come a long way.
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