“Very well, sir,” he said, and unearthed the required dress. “I’ll see the baggage goes by coach, and saddle the mare and Peter.”

“Not Peter. You go in the coach.”

“No, sir.”

“ What! ”

My lord stared at him. There had been a note of finality in the respectful tone. My lord became icy.

“You forget yourself, Salter.”

“I ask your pardon, sir.”

“You will travel in charge of my things, as usual.”

Jim compressed his lips, and stowed a shoe away in one corner of the bag.