Then, with the glass at his lips, he paused. There was a noise of horse hoofs on the gravel outside. A horseman, in military uniform, cantered by. He was followed by another, a trooper. The little company in the diningroom stood still and silent. The bell at the door of the house was rung violently. Its sound reached them. A vague uneasiness came upon them. One by one they sat down and laid their glasses—the wine untasted—on the table before them. A servant entered the room.
“Captain Twinely, my lord, of the Killulta Company of Yeomanry, wishes to see your lordship on important business.”
“Ask him to come in here,” said Lord Dunseveric.
Una rose as if to leave the room.
“No,” said Lord Dunseveric, “stay where you are, and do you stay, too, Estelle. This Captain Twinely must drink a glass of wine with us. He passes for a gentleman. Then if he has business with me I shall take him away. I must not break up our little party. It is not every day that we have the pleasure of listening to such charming speeches as your’s, Estelle.”
Captain Twinely entered the room with a swagger. He made a great noise with his heavy boots and with his spurs as he crossed the polished floor.
“I ask your pardon, my lord. I ask the ladies’ pardon. I am not fit for your company. I have ridden far today, and the roads are bad, damned bad. I rode on the king’s business.”
“The ladies,” said Lord Dunseveric, “will be pleased if you will drink a glass of wine with them. Are you alone?”
“I left my troop in Ballintoy. The sergeant will see that they obtain refreshment. My servant holds my horse outside.”
“I shall send him some refreshment,” said Lord Dunseveric. “And your horses must be stabled here till you have told me how I can serve you.”