The Black Benedicts by Anita Charles Page B

been a lovely day, and she chose to take the short cut through the park.
    Walking between the magnificent straight aisles of beech trees, she caught a curious drumming sound behind her which she decided immediately was the sound of galloping horses ’ s hooves. She looked back over her shoulder, and in the faint blue dusk which was deepening moment by moment, in the shade of the trees she made out the s hape of a horse and rider coming towards her at speed. Instinctively she stepped aside, and then halted, but when the thunder of hooves grew louder and the man on the powerful black was almost abreast of her, unthinking she threw up a hand to greet them in passing and her whi te glove gleamed ghostlike in th e gloom.
    There was a sudden, abrupt abatement of the horses ’ s speed, a kind of wild plunging of its iron-shod feet, and the next thing s he knew was that its forefeet had actually left the ground and that it was rearing upwards like a black fury. When it came down its rider also came down clean over its head, for he had had no opportunity to adjust himself or his balance to the suddenly altered pace and angle of his mount, and to Mallory ’ s horror, there in the deep gloom of the trees, she discovered that it was her own employer who was lying, apparently unconscious, almost at her feet .
    Having relieved himself of his rider, Saladin trotted off quite happily apparently until he was lost amongst the trees, and Mallory knelt down fearfully beside Raife Benedict. She touched his face, which was, of course, still quite warm to her touch, and even in such a moment as that she noted how thick and crisp was his hair, and particularly the wave which persistently tried to dip down towards one eyebrow. His eyelashes lay thick and black on his cheeks, making him look much younger, and rather devas t atingly handsome.
    But he showed no signs of life. She made up her mind that this was no time for nice feelings and slipped her hand inside his shirt, which was of thick, soft silk, and endeavoured to ascertain w hether his heart still beat. And just as she did so he opened his eyes and looked up a t her, coolly, calmly, with a hint of a smile in the sherry-brown depths.
    “ I am neither dead nor dying, Miss Gower, ” he told her. “ So pray do not upset yourself or prepare to shed tears over me. Instead, give me a hand and help me up! ”

 
    CHAPTER TEN
    W hen she had helped him up, and he was standing leaning against a tree-trunk, as if despite his light words he felt the need of some support, Mallory realized by the feel of her cheeks that her colour was high, and all that she kept thinking was that there had been no necessity for her to ascertain whether his heart was beating, and even at such a moment he had succeeded in mocking her a little.
    “ Why in the world did you want to stick your hand out like that just as we drew level with you? ” he demanded, a little irritably. “ It was your white glove that upset Saladin. And, by the way, w here is he? ”
    “ I don ’ t know, ” she confessed. “ He trotted off somewhere amongst the trees. ”
    “ Then do you think you could find him? Confound it, but I seem to have wrenched my shoulder! ” He was certainly looking rather pale, and his temper was appreciably not so good. “ Don ’ t try any tricks, but if you could just manage to catch hold of his bridle and give me a heave up into the saddle I ’ d be grateful to you. I don ’ t think I can manage to walk back to the house. ”
    Mallory was immediately filled with concern for him.
    “ Are you sure you ’ re not hurt anywhere else apart from your shoulder...? ”
    “ No; of course I ’ m not, ” he answered, with a bite in the words. “ Now, please don ’ t waste any more time, but try a n d catch that black devil of a horse of mine, but don ’ t go anywhere near him if he looks in a nasty mood. You ’ ve told me you ’ re used to horses, so now let ’ s see whether you really are. ”
    Mallory