"Yes." Rupert looked down with a reflective air. "Come here, will you?" he said, drawing Hugo aside into a small curtained recess, with a seat just wide enough for two, which happened at that moment to be empty. "I have something to ask you; there is something that you can do for me if you will."
"Happy to do anything in my power," murmured Hugo. He did not like to be asked to help other people, but there was a want of assurance in Vivian's usually self-contained demeanour which roused his curiosity. "What is it?"
"Well, to begin with, you know the Herons and Miss Murray, do you not?"
"I know them by name. I have met Percival Heron sometimes."
"Do you know that they have returned rather unexpectedly from Italy and gone to Strathleckie, the house on the other side of the property—about six miles from Netherglen?"
"How's that?"
"I suppose that Miss Murray thinks she may as well take possession of her estate," replied Rupert, rather shortly. "May I ask whether you are going to call?"
"Oh, yes, I shall certainly call."
"Then, look here, Luttrell, I want you to do something for me," said Vivian, falling into a more friendly and confidential strain than he usually employed with Hugo. "Will you mention—in an incidental sort of way—to Mrs. Heron the reason why I have not come to Scotland—the claim that my relation in Wales has on me, and all that sort of thing? It is hardly worth while writing about it, perhaps; still, if it came in your way, you might do me a service."
Hugo was so much relieved to find nothing more difficult required of him that he gave vent to a light laugh.