Benham was rather still and stiff during the meal, but it ill becomes an English aristocrat to discuss the manners of an alien population, and Amanda was amused by the effusion of the landlord and a little disposed to experiment upon him.  She sat radiating light amidst the shadows.

The question of the vehicle was broached.  The landlord was doubtful, then an idea, it was manifestly a questionable idea, occurred to him.  He went to consult an obscure brown-faced individual in the corner, disappeared, and the world without became eloquent.  Presently he returned and announced that a carozza was practicable.  It had been difficult, but he had contrived it.  And he remained hovering over the conclusion of their meal, asking questions about Amanda’s mountaineering and expressing incredulous admiration.

His bill, which he presented with an uneasy flourish, was large and included the carozza.

He ushered them out to the carriage with civilities and compliments.  It had manifestly been difficult and contrived.  It was dusty and blistered, there had been a hasty effort to conceal its recent use as a hen-roost, the harness was mended with string.  The horse was gaunt and scandalous, a dirty white, and carried its head apprehensively.  The driver had but one eye, through which there gleamed a concentrated hatred of God and man.

“No wonder he charged for it before we saw it,” said Benham.

“It’s better than walking,” said Amanda.

The company in the inn gathered behind the landlord and scrutinized Amanda and Benham intelligently.  The young couple got in.  “Avanti,” said Benham, and Amanda bestowed one last ineradicable memory on the bowing landlord.

Benham did not speak until just after they turned the first corner, and then something portentous happened, considering the precipitous position of the road they were upon.  A small boy appeared sitting in the grass by the wayside, and at the sight of him the white horse shied extravagantly.  The driver rose in his seat ready to jump.  But the crisis passed without a smash.  “Cheetah!” cried Amanda suddenly.  “This isn’t safe.”  “Ah!” said Benham, and began to act with the vigour of one who has long accumulated force.  He rose in his place and gripped the one-eyed driver by the collar.  “ASPETTO,” he said, but he meant “Stop!” The driver understood that he meant “Stop,” and obeyed.

Benham wasted no time in parleying with the driver.  He indicated to him and to Amanda by a comprehensive gesture that he had business with the landlord, and with a gleaming appetite upon his face went running back towards the inn.

The landlord was sitting down to a little game of dominoes with his friends when Benham reappeared in the sunlight of the doorway.  There was no misunderstanding Benham’s expression.

For a moment the landlord was disposed to be defiant.  Then he changed his mind.  Benham’s earnest face was within a yard of his own, and a threatening forefinger was almost touching his nose.