_No_ one of all the crowd of holiday-makers seemed to take notice of his presence, though he carried with him, from spot to spot, the only scowling face that was to be seen among them. He stood at the opening of the great marquee, and watched the dancers; his evil eye scanned each gay couple as they whirled before him, but settled upon none whom it had come to wither. Sir Richard and his brother had inaugurated the proceedings there by taking part in a few dances, but had then withdrawn themselves to the ball-room within. In the second tent, reserved for the humblest class of guests, the mirth was already growing somewhat uproarious; but there was one among the company, who, though he took two glasses for other folk's one, looked as sober as an undertaker; and Derrick came behind this man and plucked his arm. “Steve,” said he, “I want a word with you. Come out with me, and leave these capering idiots.” The landlord of the _Lisgard Arms_ did not even make a pretence of being glad to recognise his late lodger: he had been received, as Hathaway's lad had stated, into favour at the Abbey once more, through the intercession of my Lady, but he was still upon his good-behaviour, and it excessively annoyed him to see the original cause of Sir Richard's displeasure with himself once more at Mirk, and intruding where he was least welcome. However, the two withdrew together apart from the crowd. “What is it, Derrick? I think it is foolish of you venturing here. I am sorry to say that I have promised not to receive you again at my inn. I did not dream of your coming back, or else I would never have done so.” “Don't trouble yourself about that, Steve. If I stay at Mirk at all, it will be here, at the Abbey.” “At the Abbey! You have been drinking, Derrick. Now, take my advice, and be off; at all events, for the present. To-day, when everybody is being entertained by Sir-Richard, folks would resent any insult put upon the family, I can promise you--it's the worst day you could possibly have selected to force your way in here.” “No, Steve, the best day--the only day. I would have given ten thousand pounds, I tell you, rather than have missed it, or have arrived to-morrow instead.” “I am glad you are so rich, man,” returned Steve drily, “for it is the impression down here that you lost all your money upon that French horse at the Derby; poor Master Walter, too, you led him into a pretty mess, it seems.” “Curse Master Walter!” ejaculated Derrick angrily. “He's a mean skunk, if ever there was one.” “People don't think so hereabouts, Mr Derrick; and I should recommend you not to express your opinion quite so loudly. If any of these volunteers heard you speaking of their captain in that way, you would not escape with a whole skin.” “That's my look-out,” answered Derrick roughly. “I want you to tell me where I can find Sir Richard. I have particular business with him; something for his private ear.