A week after his arrival Mrs. MacDermott paid a high compliment to her nephew. She promised to mount him on the bay mare and take him out hunting. She had satisfied herself that Johnny Gafferty was not mistaken and that the young man really could ride. Bertram, excited and in high good humour, succeeded, before she had time to protest, in giving her a hearty kiss of gratitude.
The morning of the hunt was warm and moist. The meet was in one of the most favourable places in the country. Mrs. MacDermott, drawing on her gloves in the hall before starting, noted with gratification that her nephew’s breeches were well-cut and his stock neatly fastened. Johnny Gafferty could be heard outside the door speaking to the horses which he held ready.
A telegraph boy arrived on a bicycle. He handed the usual orange envelope to Mrs. Mac-Dermott. She tore it open impatiently and glanced at the message inside. She gave an exclamation of surprise and read the message through slowly and carefully. Then, without a word, she handed it to her nephew.
“Very sorry,” the telegram ran, “only to-day discovered that Bertram had not gone to you as arranged. He is in a condition of complete prostration. Cannot start now. Connell.”
“It’s from my brother,” said Mrs. MacDermott, “but what on earth does it mean? You’re here all right, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, “I’m here.”
He laid a good deal of emphasis on the “I.” Mrs. MacDermott looked at him with sudden suspicion.
“I’ve had a top-hole time,” he said. “What an utterly incompetent rotter Connell is! He had nothing on earth to do but lie low. His father couldn’t have found out.”
Mrs. MacDermott walked over to the door and addressed Gafferty.
“Johnny,” she said, “the horses won’t be wanted to-day.” She turned to the young man who stood beside her. “Now,” she said, “come into the library and explain what all this means.”