Sure enough I found them there, my lady standing by the midmost window and gazing down upon the park, Sir Luke by the fireplace with an arm resting on the high mantel-ledge and one muddied boot jabbing at the logs of a new-made fire till the flame roared up the chimney. I wondered what madness could command so huge a blaze in the month of August (albeit 'twas the last of the month), until he turned and I saw that he had been drinking heavily.
It seemed that Lady Glynn had not heard me enter, for as I paused, a little within the doorway, she leaned forward without turning and pushed open a lattice of the window. I supposed that she did this to abate the heat of the fire in the room. But no; she was leaning and listening to the sound of guns far in the west. The sound—I had heard it in my sleep and again at intervals while dressing—broke heavily on the mist that damped the panes and drifted through the opening with a breeze that set the curls waving about her neck and puffed out the silken shawl she had drawn around her naked shoulders.
Sir Luke looked up, and was the first to catch sight of me.
'Hear the guns?' he said. 'Your foot hasn't the luck of your horse. The King caught 'em, drove 'em back over Lestithiel Bridge, and has been keeping 'em on the run all day, pressing 'em t'wards the coast.'
'Is that the report?' I asked.
'That's my report,' he answered; 'and'—thrusting forward one bemired boot—'you may count on it. I've been following and watching the fun.'
By this time Lady Glynn had turned and came past her husband to greet me, without throwing him a look.
'You are the better for your rest?' she asked. 'At least I see that, though wounded, you have contrived to pay me the compliment of wearing fresh linen and a clean pair of boots.'
This was awkward, and—what was worse—she said it awkwardly, with a sprightliness, gracious yet affected, that did not become her at all. She meant, of course, to annoy her husband, and his face showed that she had succeeded. He turned away to the fire with a sulky frown, while she stood smiling, holding out a hand to me.
I touched it respectfully, and let it drop. 'The credit,' said I, 'belongs all to your servant Pascoe.'