“My dear Baron,” Sir William Bounderby said, “I want you to change your stand to-day. I must have a good man at the far corner as the birds go off my hand from there, and Addington was missing them shockingly yesterday. Besides, there is a new man coming on your left and I know nothing of his shooting—nothing at all!”
Peter smiled.
“Anywhere you choose to put me, Sir William,” he assented. “They came badly for Addington yesterday, and well for me. However, I’ll do my best.”
“I wish people wouldn’t bring strangers, especially to the one shoot where I’m keen about the bag. I told Portal he could bring his brother-in-law, and he’s bringing this foreign fellow instead. Don’t suppose he can shoot for nuts! Did you ever hear of him, I wonder? The Count von Hern, he calls himself.”
The motor-car had come to a standstill by this time. From it descended Mr. Portal himself, a large neighboring land owner, a man of culture and travel. With him was Bernadine, in a very correct shooting suit and Tyrolese hat. On the other side of Mr. Portal was a short, thick set man, with olive complexion, keen black eyes, black mustache and imperial, who was dressed in city clothes. Sir William’s eyebrows were slightly raised as he advanced to greet the party. Peter was at once profoundly interested.
Mr. Portal introduced his guests.
“You will forgive me, I am sure, for bringing a spectator, Bounderby,” he said. “Major Kosuth, whom I have the honor to present—Major Kosuth, Sir William Bounderby—is high up in the diplomatic service of a country with whom we must feel every sympathy—the young Turks. The Count von Hern, who takes my brother-in-law’s place, is probably known to you by name.”
Sir William welcomed his visitors cordially.
“You do not shoot, Major Kosuth?” he asked.
“Very seldom,” the Turk answered. “I come to-day with my good friend, Count von Hern, as a spectator, if you permit.”