The marquis and his guests were lunching in a glen after a first-rate drive. Long rows of dead grouse were spread in lines near where the beaters were eating their dinner. The guns, twelve in number, reclined under the lee of a rock, discussing cold grouse, cold pie, sandwiches, and cake, when a gillie arrived with the letters. These were those which had come from the south by a second post, and, being the most important of the day, were invariably sent out to the guns, as among Lord Maxwelton’s guests were men high in the political and diplomatic world and the services, to whom the delay of a few hours, meant much in these hurried times. Letters and telegrams were handed about to where their recipients sat lounging or cross-legged, enjoying a pipe or cigar. “Two for you, Owen,” said his host and brother-in-law, and he handed him a couple of missives in the long, narrow envelopes dedicated to business. Lord Mulgrave glanced at them indifferently. The post had no surprises or pleasures for him. One was from his farm bailiff, no doubt about wire fencing; the other was from Usher, his man of business. Could anything be more prosaic or commonplace? An interesting young colonel, his next-hand neighbour--a keen soldier and a keen shot--was immersed in a woman’s letter, written in an enormous hand, with violet ink. As he turned the page, the words “My own darling boy” were as plain as a sign-post. Those who sat must read; but the lady’s “darling” was blissfully unconscious. Lord Mulgrave, about to consign his letters to his pockets, paused. He might as well see what Brown and Usher had to say. He cut the envelopes carefully with a pocket-knife, being the most methodical of men, and drew out first of all Brown’s estimate for so many yards of netting. Then he examined the other. At the first glance, at the words “astonishing discovery,” he simply lifted his eyebrows. At the second glance, he read on with colourless face to the bottom of the page; he turned it with a trembling hand--he finished the letter, three sides of a sheet--crushed it up, rose abruptly to his feet, and walked away. “Hullo!” exclaimed the little colonel, looking up suddenly, “I am afraid his lordship has had bad news?” and he turned his head, and watched the tall, active, tweed-clad form, striding towards the banks of a foaming mountain torrent, where the figure seated itself in an attitude which implied, “Leave me alone. I wish for my own company!” “Perhaps something has disagreed with him,” muttered a man who did not like Lord Mulgrave’s cold and courteous manners. “Perhaps so,” assented the little colonel; “_you_ have never agreed with him, and I heard you just now abusing his pet scheme for compulsory service.” “And he jumped down my throat, spurs and all.”