Sir George, whom they called "Greggy," looked as if the whole of the Far East was hanging on his nod. He silently considered.
"I tell m'lud that the spinney's quite fresh, sir," said Hemmings, touching his cap respectfully. "M'lud saw a fine bag off there last year, sir."
"What do you say?" pleaded Lord Bellingdown, quite visibly agitated.
The other men gathered about, all obviously perturbed.
"Hand me my field-glasses," commanded Sir George. "My man has them."
Sir George's man, carrying Sir George's two guns, came hurriedly forward with Sir George's field-glasses. Every one pressed close and glanced back and forth between the baronet and the spinney, which was an exceedingly ordinary spinney with some fir-trees beyond.
The owner of the field-glasses raised them, adjusted them, lowered them, readjusted them, raised them again and took a long look.
"I should toss up for it," he decided, without deciding.
"What an old fool he is!" the duchess observed confidentially into the ear of Charlotte Grey, who started visibly.
"Who do you mean?" asked Lady Grey sharply.