He turns away, and joins the women and
the returned sportsmen in the upper drawing-room.
"Where is Dynecourt?" asks somebody a little later. Arthur, though he
hears the question, does not even change color, but calmly, with a
steady hand, gives Florence her tea.
"Yes; where is Sir Adrian?" asks Mrs. Talbot, glancing up at the
speaker.
"He left us about an hour ago," Captain Ringwood answers. "He said he'd
prefer walking home, and he shoveled his birds into our cart, and left
us without another word. He'll turn up presently, no doubt."
"Dear me, I hope nothing has happened to him!" says Ethel Villiers, who
is sitting in a window through which the rays of the evening sun are
stealing, turning her auburn locks to threads of rich red gold.
"I hope not, I'm sure," interposes Arthur, quite feelingly. "It does
seem odd he hasn't come in before this." Then, true to his determination
to so arrange matters that, if discovery ensues upon his scheme, he may
still find for himself a path out of his difficulties, he says quietly,
"I met him about a mile from home, and walked here with him. We parted
at the hall-door; I dare say he is in the library or the stables."
"Good gracious, why didn't you say so before?" exclaims old Lady
FitzAlmont in a querulous tone. "I quite began to believe the poor boy
had blown out his brains through disappointed love, or something equally
objectionable.
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