Part 20 (1/2)

”I want you to have a good time, my dear fellow,” exclaimed the Earl to his guest. ”Just make yourself at home. You'll find the house a big barrack of a place, too big in fact--but with the aid of the servants you'll very soon discover the proper trails. If you don't, just go into the nearest room, ring the bell and wait. That's what most people do.

My wife was fully six months before she could find her way about properly--it's a fact! She wanted to shut up the place and live in the new wing. But,” he added, ”the old guv'nor always kept it up properly, and I feel it my duty to do just as he did.”

That a cordial friends.h.i.+p existed between the pair was plain, and yet I had only once heard his lords.h.i.+p mention him, and that was in the smoking-room when daring feats of big-game hunting and the achievements of Selous and others were being discussed. Then he had declared that he knew a man that held his own with them all--a man named Smeeton, who had spent the greater part of his life exploring and hunting, some of whose trophies, sold to well-known dealers, were the finest in the world.

His lords.h.i.+p was never a boastful man, and had not referred at all to his acquaintance with this renowned hunter, nor to his own African exploits, which were in no way a mean achievement.

He had just ordered Slater to bring in whiskies-and-sodas, as it was his habit to have a ”peg” before dressing, when there sounded out in the corridor a light quick footstep, and the scamper of a dog, and the next instant the door opened, and the Countess of Stanchester halted on the threshold, facing the man she held in such deadly fear--Richard Keene!

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

FACE TO FACE.

”My friend Smeeton--Lady Stanchester,” exclaimed the Earl, introducing them.

Their gaze met, and I saw that in a moment her heart became gripped by a nameless terror, her countenance blanched, and she halted rigid, as utterly dumbfounded as I had been; while the mysterious guest bowed, expressing his pleasure at making her acquaintance, and thus allowing her a chance to recover her self-possession.

I saw that he had darted a meaning look at her--a glance which she apparently understood, for next second she held her breath, stifling down her apprehension, and then managed to stammer out the usual expression of gratification at meeting any of her husband's friends.

”We have only a moment ago, Lady Stanchester, been recalling memories of our days on the Zambesi. We were both, I think, a little more reckless then than we are now,” he said laughing.

”You're right, Smeeton,” declared the Earl. ”Playing the fool as I did, I narrowly escaped with my life half-a-dozen times over. But I've profited by your advice and experience.”

”George is quite a steady-going old fogey nowadays, you must know, Mr Smeeton,” exclaimed her ladys.h.i.+p. ”He's a member of all sorts of committees for this and for that, and sits on the bench of magistrates with the row of fat butchers and bakers.”

”And is pretty hard on poachers, I suppose?” he laughed. ”In the eyes of county magistrates the snaring of a hare is, I've heard, regarded as one of the worst crimes in the calendar.”

”Of course. Because it is generally the only crime that personally concerns the bench,” remarked his lords.h.i.+p, while his wife had crossed to the fireplace and stood slightly behind her husband, in order, I noticed, to conceal the agitation now consuming her. Why had the man come there in the guise of her husband's friend? That they had shot together in Africa was certain, for she had heard of this man's prowess as a big-game hunter, but it was a revelation to her, as to me, that Smeeton and Richard Keene were one and the same person.

Old Slater returned with the ”pegs” and the men drank them while her ladys.h.i.+p busied herself pretending to try and find a book in the large bookcase behind me. She chatted to them all the time, but managed to keep her face concealed.

At last the dressing-bell sounded, and the Earl accompanied his guest to his room, exclaiming with a laugh--

”I'd better show you the way, old chap, or you'll be wandering about like one of the lost tribes.” Then, the instant the door had closed and their footsteps retreated, the Countess turned quickly to me, her face white and drawn, her eyes terrified, whispering--

”What does this mean, Mr Woodhouse? What can it mean?”

”Well, it seems as though the fellow had some object in coming to stay here as a guest,” I said. ”What that object is you yourself know best.”

”Of course he has a motive,” she cried in despair. ”But what am I to do? Why didn't you warn me that you had recognised him?”

I explained briefly how to warn her had been impossible.

”Do you think George noticed my confusion when I opened the door and saw him here?” she asked anxiously.

”I think not,” was my reply. ”You so quickly recovered yourself.”

”Ah! But you don't know how sharp his eyes are. He's really absurdly jealous sometimes.”

I smiled within myself to think that a woman so fond of admiration and flattery should complain of her husband's jealousy.