His new friend caught sight of him as he stood drawn up at the outlet of the drive; saluted, and came towards him with an air of the utmost importance and solemnity. “Tuke,” he said, putting up his hand on the other’s saddle-bow and looking earnestly in his face--“where the deuce have you been?” “Yes, yes,” he went on, conscious of a certain atmosphere. “It’s all right--it’s no business of mine, of course. Only, you’ve been wanted, my friend.” “Oh!--by whom?” “By Whimple, there. The man’s half-wild with fright.” The other answered with a little contemptuous laugh. “Oh!” said Sir David, flushing slightly. “We can’t all command courage, you know. You and me may be different; but----” “Well, well, Blythewood, what’s it all about?” “I’ll tell you. I rode over early to ask if you’d put up for the Wilton hunt, and found your furniture here unpackin’ and Dennis lookin’ on, like a wamble-cropped sentryman. ‘Hullo, my friend!’ says I, ‘hath Boneless been a-stalkin’ in your bed-chamber that you show the colour of a new sack?’ And, by Gad, Tuke, you ain’t in rosy condition yourself!” “Never mind me.” “Well, he was scared; and what d’ye suppose he told me?--that he’d feared an attempt on the house last night on the part of three bodeful ruffians that visited your grounds after dark.” “Yes--well?” “You take it coolly, upon my soul. Well--this. He was lookin’ out of one of the upper windows and saw them slinkin’ amongst the trees--three as bloody rogues as ever----” “Yes, yes, I know. What did they do? What did _he_ do?” “Umph! Why he did nothin’; but he kept watch and so did they, waitin’ no doubt for the lights to be extinguished; and presently there came a noise of wheels and up rolled your vans here from Winton. At that they retreated--cursing, for he could hear them--but not far, it seems; for all the time the first cargo was unloadin’, he could catch the white of their faces now and again amongst the shrubs. So, on some pretext or another, he stabled the horses and put up the porters against your comin’, thinkin’--as was right--that our gentlemen would shy at so brave a company. And then from room to room he walked all night; and he saw the rogues come out on the gravel and dance wi’ rage in the moonlight.” “Why didn’t he take a posse of his bodyguard and ask the scoundrels their business?” “Oh, come, Tuke! You ask too much of the man--upon my word you do. He ain’t exactly a free agent here, I gather. But don’t this follow queerly on what you told us the other night? And Dennis acquaints me there are signs of their having tried to force an entrance already.” “Does he? He appears to give you confidences that he withholds from me.” “Well,” answered Sir David, dryly and a little haughtily, “maybe I invite them more than you do.” “That is possible, of course. Would it be an abuse of them to specify the nature of this presumed attempt?”