Part 19 (2/2)
”Sammy Woodford!” he exclaimed, interrupting me. ”How long has he been here?”
”Ever since the opening of the season. Are you acquainted?”
”Well--not exactly,” he responded evasively. ”I've heard a good deal about him from mutual friends. I'll be glad to meet him. He's the man who was in the Chitral affair. They swear by him in India.”
”So I believe,” I remarked, puzzled at the strange expression which crossed his features when I mentioned the name of the Earl's very intimate friend. Mr Samuel Woodford, or ”Sammy” to his intimates, was a district superintendent of Bengal Police, who was home on two years'
leave, a short well-preserved fair-headed man, a splendid athlete, a splendid shot, a splendid tennis and polo player. At Sibberton, where he had been a guest on several occasions, he was a great favourite, for he was always the merriest of the house-party and the keenest where sports or games were concerned.
Stanchester liked him because he was so perfectly honest and straight.
The very look in his clear steel-grey eyes spoke truth, uprightness and a healthy life, and after their first meeting, one season at Cowes, his lords.h.i.+p had taken a great fancy to him.
”Anybody else I'm likely to know?” asked the visitor, with a carelessness which I knew was a.s.sumed.
”Well, there's the Marchese Visconti, of the Italian Emba.s.sy, young Hugh Hibbert from Oxford, and `Poppa,' as they call the newly-made Lord Cawnpore. And the honourable Lucy Whitwell, the daughter of Lady Drayton.”
”Is she here also?” he exclaimed, looking at me in quick surprise, which he did not attempt to disguise. ”She's with her mother, of course?”
I responded in the affirmative, and recognised by his manner that the presence of the lady in question somewhat nonplussed him. Possibly she might be acquainted with him as Richard Keene, seafarer, and he antic.i.p.ated an awkwardness about his introduction as the celebrated big-game hunter.
I antic.i.p.ated a scene when the Countess met him, and was inwardly glad that at least Lolita was absent.
Ought I to warn the Countess, I wondered? She had, I remembered, appealed to me to a.s.sist her, and surely in this I might. Nevertheless, if her husband were in ignorance of the man's real ident.i.ty, it was not likely that he would expose it willingly, or seek to injure her ladys.h.i.+p, or make any demonstration before her guests. On the one hand, I felt it my duty to give her warning of the stranger's arrival, while on the other I feared that by doing so I might be defeating the ends which the man Keene might have in view, namely, the discovery of the real author of the crime in Sibberton Park.
Thus I remained, undecided, continuing to chat with him, watching his att.i.tude carefully, and seeking to learn from his conversation something regarding his intentions.
”I should imagine Lord Stanchester to be a very lucky fellow,” he remarked presently. ”If the photographs one sees in the papers are any criterion, her ladys.h.i.+p must be a very beautiful woman.”
”Yes,” I answered, smiling. He was very cleverly trying to impress upon me the fact that they had never met. His shrewd cunning showed itself in the sidelong glance he gave me.
At that moment the door suddenly opened, and Lord Stanchester, in his rough shooting kit, came in.
”Halloa, Smeeton! Welcome, my dear fellow!” he cried, wringing his guest's hands. ”Excuse my being away, won't you? I've got a lot of people here, you know, and had to go out with them. By Jove! When you said good-bye to me and left the boat at Zanzibar, I never expected to see you again?”
”Well, here I am--turned up in England again, you see!” he replied merrily. ”When we parted I had no intention of coming back. But somehow, on occasions, a longing for home comes over me, and I'm drawn back to London irresistibly. I see,” he added, ”some of the trophies are up in the hall.”
”Yes,” laughed his lords.h.i.+p. ”I had them all mounted. And often when I look at them, they bring back pleasant recollections of those many weeks we were together. Well,” he added, ”I'm very pleased, Smeeton, to see you here at Sibberton--very. My wife knows you're here; she'll be delighted to meet you. I'm sure. I've often spoken of you, and told her how you saved me from that lioness. By Jove! I was within an ace of being done--and should have been if you hadn't been such a dead shot.”
”Oh, that's enough,” laughed the guest, modestly. ”I can't shoot partridges--that you'll see.”
The Earl walked to the mantelshelf, took a cigarette, and lit it, saying--
”I see Woodhouse has been making you at home. This is Willoughby Woodhouse, my friend as well as my secretary,” he exclaimed. ”I spoke of him, I believe.”
”You did, on several occasions,” and turning, Smeeton added, ”I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Woodhouse. His lords.h.i.+p said all sorts of kind things about you.”
But I scarcely heeded the newcomer's remarks. I was wondering what would occur when he met her ladys.h.i.+p face to face.
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