Chapter Two.
In Hot Blood.
“Yes, and you’ll have to wait,” cried Richard Frayne, as the door closed on the man, and he listened to the departing steps as he involuntarily crossed to the stand, picked up his flute, and rearranged the music, but only to throw it down angrily and replace his instrument.
“The scoundrel!” he cried. “Here, I must have this out at once.”
He was no longer the quiet, dreamy-looking musician, but full of angry energy; and in this spirit he went straight to his cousin’s room, knocked, and went in; but the place was empty.
“Seen my cousin?” he cried, as he encountered Jerry, the house servant, valet, and factotum.
“See him smoking in the garden ’arf a hour ago, S’Richard.”
Richard hurried down into the extensive grounds, and came plump upon Mr Draycott, the well-known military tutor and coach, tramping laboriously up and down one of the gravel paths, with his hands behind, giving a loud puff at every second step, for he was an enormously fat man, to whom walking was a severe trial, but a trial he persevered in from a wholesome dread that, if he neglected proper exercise, he would grow worse.
“Hullo, Frayne!” he cried, “I want to see you—” puff.
“Yes, sir?”