She was justly incensed by it, and knew that he was presuming upon her youth, her husband's age, and the too apparent aspect of an ill-assorted marriage. Their visit must be cut short at all risks; but what excuse was she to make to Sir Paget; for, with her knowledge of his jealousy of one who was dead, how was she to enlighten him on the subject of Sir Harry, whose manner proved to her somewhat obnoxious. The truth was that he was so much in the use and wont of having 'sherry-glass flirtations' at railway buffets, and so forth, that he was quite incapable of showing his admiration or regard in a subtle or pleasing, respectful or cavalier way, and even his own grooms might have been better hands at it than he, the lord of that grand old ancestral home. CHAPTER IX. THE CUB-HUNTING. The gong for breakfast sounded betimes at Hurdell Hall on the morning of the first day's cub-hunting, as an early hour is always most favourable for scent, and, as several guests were invited, an ample meal was spread in the great dining-room, the several bay windows of which overlooked the terrace and stately chase that spread far away beyond it. Sir Harry and his sister were the first who appeared, and the latter looked round for the morning papers, but could see none. Now, though the 'fair Lucretia,' as her friends frequently called her, cared nothing about the war in Egypt, she liked to read about the movements of 'the upper ten thousand'--their births, marriages, deaths, and so forth--to all of which she addressed herself first, as a City man does to the money article. 'Where are the papers, Harry?' she asked. 'I have ordered the butler to take them all away,' said he. 'Even the _Morning Post_?' 'Yes; even the _Post_.' 'Why?' 'Look here. I do not wish Lady Puddicombe to see _this_,' he replied, taking a newspaper from his pocket, and indicating a paragraph--another brief telegram from Egypt--which ran thus: 'The detachment of the Black Watch which was sent to Matarieh to make a demonstration against the Bedouins of Zeid-el-Ourdeh has been ordered back to head-quarters, and seems to have lost its other officer--a very distinguished one--Captain Allan Graham, the Hon. the Master of Aberfeldie, who is supposed to have fallen into some of the same butcherly hands amid which Professor Palmer and his companions perished.' 'Good heavens! _her_ brother!' exclaimed Miss Hurdell, actually changing colour. 'Yes; and it must be kept from her--to-day, at least,' said Sir Harry, concealing the fatal newspaper. 'Taken by the Bedouins--but she must learn it some time.' 'Well, I don't want her to learn it just now, poor girl, at all events. I can't make a mull of the arrangements for the day, and I don't want her to learn it here, if possible.' 'Why not here?' 'Certainly not from me.' 'Why not from _you_?' 'I hate to be imparter of evil news.' 'Oho,' said Miss Hurdell, elevating her eyebrows; 'sets the wind in that quarter?'