"Yes, the fellow can shoot; he's less of an impostor than I expected." "Wonderful eye and hand. He must have spent years of his life in a shooting gallery. You're a dooced good shot, Tregonell; but, compared with him, you're not in it." "That's very likely, though I have had to live by my gun in the Rockies. FitzJesse told me that in South America de Cazalet was known as a professed duellist." "And you have only shot four-footed beasts--never gone for a fellow creature," answered Jack lightly. CHAPTER VIII. "TIME TURNS THE OLD DAYS TO DERISION." If Leonard Tregonell was troubled and perplexed by the change in his wife's character, there was one other person at Mount Royal, Christabel's nearest and dearest friend, to whom that change was even a greater mystification. Jessie Bridgeman, who had been with her in the dark hours of her grief--who had seen her sunk in the apathy of despair--who had comforted and watched her, and sympathized and wept with her, looked on now in blank wonderment at a phase of character which was altogether enigmatical. She had been with Mrs. Tregonell at Zermatt, when de Cazalet had obtruded himself on their notice by his officious attentions during a pilgrimage to the Riffel, and she had been bewildered at Christabel's civility to a man of such obvious bad style. He had stayed at the same hotel with them for three or four days, and had given them as much of his society as he could without being absolutely intrusive, taking advantage of having met Christabel five seasons ago, at two or three _quasi_ literary assemblies; and at parting Christabel had invited him to Mount Royal. "Mr. Tregonell will be at home in the autumn," she said, "and if you should find yourself in Cornwall"--he had talked of exploring the West of England--"I know he would be glad to see you at Mount Royal." When Jessie hinted at the unwisdom of an invitation to a man of whom they knew so little, Christabel answered carelessly that "Leonard liked to have his house full of lively people, and would no doubt be pleased with the Baron de Cazalet." "You used to leave him to choose his own visitors." "I know; but I mean to take a more active part in the arrangement of things in future. I am tired of being a cipher." "Did you hear those people talking of the Baron at _table d'hôte_ yesterday?" "I heard a little--I was not particularly attentive." "Then perhaps you did not hear that he is a thorough Bohemian--that he led a very wild life in South America, and was a notorious duellist." "What can that matter to us, even if it is true?"