In the morning, then, they started on this last stage of their journey, leaving Wright at the hotel with the luggage until it could be sent for, and bidding a grateful farewell to the O’Malachy, who was smoking a wonderful cigar on the balcony over the door. The ride was a long one, and the roads very bad, but Caerleon had brought a map of the district in his pocket, and with its aid they succeeded in finding their way. But when they reached the castle disappointment awaited them. Everything was shut up, and the only person in authority was an aged steward, who informed them that Count Temeszy Gyula (putting the surname first in true Hungarian fashion) was in Paris, and the rest of the family at Vienna. The English gentlemen might inspect the castle and the stables while a meal was being prepared for them, the best possible at such short notice, but the old man could not venture to invite them to take up their quarters in the house without instructions from his master. It was also possible that the Count’s foresters might organise a wolf-hunt one day for the strangers’ benefit, but it would still be best for them to return to Janoszwar until Count Gyula could be communicated with. “I didn’t know that we were such suspicious-looking characters,” grumbled Cyril after lunch, as they mounted their horses to retrace their weary way. “And we shall have to quarter ourselves upon the O’Malachy again,” responded Caerleon. “That’s what I hate. It looks such a shabby thing to do.” But when they reached the hotel they found their rooms ready, and the landlord and Wright expecting them. “The old gentleman up-stairs tell us to look out for you, my lord,” said the latter to his master. “’E said as you’d most likely be comin’ back about this time.” “Did the O’Malachy know that Temeszy was away when we started?” asked Caerleon of Cyril as they sat at dinner. “Don’t know,” said Cyril. “Perhaps he thought you looked as though a ride would do you good. He seems a decent enough old chap, anyhow. His wife is a Scythian lady, Wright tells me.” “Oh, by the bye, that reminds me,” said Caerleon; “we must call to-morrow. I’ll tell Wright to hunt up our visiting-cards, and we’ll do the thing in style.”