It was the third evening after that one recorded in the last chapter; the party at Dene remained the same, though a large reinforcement was expected on the morrow. Only the younger Vavasour was absent; he had gone out to dine and sleep at the house of a country magnate, with whom a Russian friend of Max's was staying. Lady Mildred and her daughter had just left the drawing-room--it was close upon midnight--Wyverne followed them into the hall to provide them with their tapers, and had not yet succeeded in lighting Helen's--there never was such an obstinate piece of wax, or such an awkward [Greek: pyrphoros.] It is possible he would have lingered yet longer over the operation, and some pleasant last words, but he suddenly caught sight of the chief butler standing in the deep doorway that led towards the offices. The emergency must have been very tremendous to induce that model of discretion to intrude himself on any colloquy whatever; he evidently did not intend to do so now; but an extraordinary intelligence and significance on the grave precise face, usually possessed by a polite vacuity, made Alan conclude his "good-nights" rather abruptly; he guessed that he was wanted. "What is it, Hales?" he said, as soon as he came within speaking distance. The butler's voice was mysteriously subdued as he replied-- "My master wishes to see you in his study immediately, if you please, Sir Alan. Mr. Somers is with him." The said Somers was born and bred in Norfolk, but had been head keeper at Dene for fifteen years--a brave, honest, simple-minded man, rather blunt and unceremonious with his superiors, and apt to be surly with his equals and subordinates; but not ill-conditioned or bad hearted _au fond_; a really sincere and well-meaning Christian, too, though he would swear awfully at times. He had only one aim and object in life--the rearing and preservation of game; we should be lucky, some of us, if we carried out our single idea as thoroughly well. The Squire was looking rather grave and anxious, as his nephew entered. "Tell Sir Alan at once what you have been telling me, Somers," he said. "There is no time to lose, if we mean to act." The keeper's hard, dark face, grew more ominous and threatening, as he muttered--"Acting! I should hope there's no doubt about _that_: there never was such a chance." And then in his own curt, quaint way, he gave Wyverne the sum of his intelligence.