IN QUEST OF AMMUNITION
THE Gidleys had always been keen sportsmen; and the present owner of the Manor House had been noted, in former years, as one of the best shots in the county. There were fire-arms of all sorts decorating the walls of the hall, hanging side by side with swords of a bygone date, which Lionel had been strictly commanded never to touch; he had never done so, though he had often cast longing eyes upon them; consequently, he had been delighted at the finding of the old blunderbuss, and additionally pleased when his grandfather had not forbidden its being used as a plaything.
The boy was extremely thoughtful and quiet on the morning after Sir Richard's unexpected interruption of the game in the disused room, so that Ruth, who understood her brother's ways perfectly, knew there was something weighing upon his mind. She was devoured with curiosity to find out what it was, but at the same time, she was quite aware it would be useless to question him. However, she kept a watchful eye on him during the morning, greatly to his annoyance; but she could not follow him about all day, especially as her mother invited her to drive to a neighbouring town, to do some shopping in the afternoon—a pleasure which she could not refuse. At the last moment, when the carriage was at the door, Sir Richard decided to accompany them, so Lionel was left to his own devices.
His first act on being alone was to repair to the study. It was a dingy room with heavy mahogany furniture, upholstered in a dull shade of green; the walls were lined with book-cases containing old volumes, mostly covered in leather; no one ever read them, for Sir Richard was not of a studious disposition. A writing-table occupied a prominent position in front of the window. On this table a few rusty pens, a sheet of blotting paper almost unsoiled, and a handful of bills were scattered, whilst the ink in the inkstand—fashioned in the shape of a fox's head in bronze—had become clotted.
From the writing-table Lionel's eyes travelled to an old oak bureau, placed across one corner of the room; he tried the drawers, but much to his disappointment, found them all locked.
"Bother!" he exclaimed aloud, irritably; "what shall I do now? It's just possible grandfather may have some powder and shot in one of these drawers. I wish I knew where he keeps his keys!"
Lionel was perfectly aware he had no right to pry into any place which was locked nevertheless, when his roving glance caught sight of a bunch of keys on the mantel-piece, he seized them at once, and tried if he could find one to fit the lock of the top drawer of the bureau. Some were too large, others were too small, but at length he found one that fitted the lock exactly, and in another moment the drawer was open. He was disappointed with its contents, which comprised a tangle of fishing lines, a book containing hooks and flies, a few floats, and a ball of whip-cord. The key fitted all the drawers, so he opened them in succession; but it was not until he came to the last that his hopes of finding what he was searching for went up with a bound.
"At last!" he exclaimed exultantly.
The drawer was full of ammunition. There were boxes of cartridges; but those Lionel turned aside, whilst his eager fingers grasped a flask, which proved on examination to contain gunpowder. On searching a little further, at the back of the drawer, he discovered a bag full of shot. This was a find indeed! He had taken possession of these treasures, and was about to shut and lock the drawer, when some one, who had quietly entered the room unnoticed by him, touched him on the shoulder. He started violently, and could not repress a slight shriek.
"What are you doing here, Master Lionel?" asked a well-known voice, in tones of mingled astonishment and reproof.