The country we had gone over was difficult and dangerous, full of blind fences and yawning ditches, deep enough and wide enough to swallow up any horse and his rider who might fail to clear them. Fortunately, however, I escaped disaster, and for the greater part of the run I was close to the gentleman with the Mephistophelian face and Tom Rawlings, who acted as his pilot. Tom rode well, of course--it was his business--but no better than his master, whose horse, besides being a big jumper, was as clever as a cat, flying the ditches like a bird, and clearing the blindest fences without making a single mistake. After the first run we drew two coverts blank, but eventually found a second fox, which gave us a slow hunting run of about an hour, interrupted by several checks, and saved his brush by taking refuge in an unstopped earth. By this time it was nearly three o'clock, and being a long way from home, and thinking no more good would be done, I deemed it expedient to leave off. I went away as Mephistopheles and his man were mounting their second horses, which had just been brought up by the two grooms in livery. My way lay by Matching Green, and as I stopped at the village inn to refresh my horse with a pail of gruel and myself with a glass of ale, who should come up but old Tawney, Tom Cuffe's second horseman! Besides being an adept at his calling, familiar with every cross-road and almost every field in the county, he knew nearly as well as a hunted fox himself which way the creature meant to run. Tawney was a great gossip, and quite a mine of curious information about things equine and human--especially about things equine. Here was a chance not to be neglected of learning something about Mephistopheles; so after warming Tawney's heart and opening his lips with a glass of hot whiskey punch, I began: "You've got a new first whip, I see." "Yes, sir, name of Cobbe--Paul Cobbe. He comes from the Berkshire country, he do, sir." "But how is it that Rawlings has left? and who is that gentleman he was with to-day?" "What! haven't you heard!" exclaimed Tawney, as surprised at my ignorance as if I had asked him the name of the reigning sovereign. "I have not heard, which, seeing that I spent the greater part of the summer at sea and returned only the other day, is perhaps not greatly to be wondered at." "Well, the gentleman as Rawlings has gone to and as he was with to-day is Mr. Fortescue; him as has taken Kingscote." Kingscote was a country-house of no extraordinary size, but with so large a park and gardens, conservatories and stables so extensive as to render its keeping up very costly; and the owner or mortgagee, I know not which, had for several years been vainly trying to let it at a nominal rent. "He must be rich, then. Kingscote will want a lot of keeping up."