CHAPTER XXIV. A GUILTY SOUL. He listened eagerly until the sound of the horse's gallop grew fainter and fainter, and then Henderson proceeded to carry out the plan which he had laid down for himself. This was actually to go to Captain North's supper, who was a somewhat disreputable sporting man in the neighborhood, who, for reasons of his own, had not given the cold shoulder to Henderson during the time of the great scandal about him. Henderson therefore turned and walked on quickly in the direction of Captain North's place, Newstead. It was only about a mile from the little wood where he had fired the shot at Reid, and it did not take him long to arrive there. A sort of savage exultation filled his breast as he proceeded on his way. At all events, he had wounded Reid, for he had heard the man's startled cry. And the shot could not be traced to him, he believed, for he would be known to be at North's supper at the time, and in the darkness it was impossible that Reid could have recognized him. At Newstead he received a warm welcome. "How late you are, old fellow!" cried the host, a dissipated red-faced man of fifty, rising from the table and grasping Henderson's hand. "Am I?" answered Henderson. "Well, my mother was not well, and so I did not start so early as I intended." After this he sat down to supper with the rest, and seemed in high spirits. They were a rough lot altogether, and they all seemed bent on enjoying themselves. They drank, laughed, joked, and sang, and Henderson joined in the thick of it. It was indeed after two in the morning before they began to talk of dispersing. "I wonder if my trap is here?" asked Henderson. "No, sir," answered the servant he addressed; "there is nothing here from Stourton Grange." "Confound that fellow. I wonder why he has not come; got drunk, as usual, I suppose," said Henderson. "Do you mean that groom of yours, Reid?" asked Captain North. "I'm told he's quite a swell now, and goes about buying horses, and blustering about some money he has had left him, or that he has power over you, or something. I would get rid of him if I were you, Henderson." "He's a lazy dog," swore Henderson, and then the conversation dropped. One of the guests who was going Henderson's way offered to give him a lift, and Henderson accepted the offer. This man drove Henderson nearly to the avenue at Stourton, and there they parted, Henderson proceeding on foot in the direction of the Grange. As he walked on in the darkness and the gloom, for the first time since he had fired the shot at Reid, a sort of dread, of shrinking from the consequences of what he had done, stole over his soul. But he braced himself up to conquer this feeling. "He deserved it. I hope he is dead," he thought, and in this mood he neared his home.