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He was awakened by the flash of a lantern on his face, and sat up, blinking. A man to whom, even in those few moments of half-dazed awakening, he took an instinctive dislike, was standing by the side of the car. He was clean-shaven, with round face, small eyes, bull-necked, and, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, he was still wearing riding clothes. His whole appearance was curiously reminiscent of the race course. In his hand he held a large tumbler filled with whisky and soda.
"Wake up, young fellow," he enjoined. "You'll get rheumatism, sleeping there a damp night like this."