Richard made his way to Adrian. "What is it you want with me, Adrian?"
"Are we seconds, or principals, O fiery one?" was Adrian's answer.
"I want nothing with you, except to know whether you have seen Benson."
"Where should I see Benson? What do I know of Benson's doings?"
"Of course not—such a secret old fist as he is! I want some one to tell him to order Lady Blandish's carriage to be sent round to the park-gates. I thought he might be round your way over there—I came upon him accidentally just now in Abbey-wood. What's the matter, boy?"
"You saw him there?"
"Hunting Diana, I suppose. He thinks she's not so chaste as they say," continued Adrian. "Are you going to knock down that tree?"
Richard had turned to the cypress, and was tugging at the tough wood. He left it and went to an ash.
"You'll spoil that weeper," Adrian cried. "Down she comes! But good- night, Ricky. If you see Benson mind you tell him."
Doomed Benson following his burly shadow hove in sight on the white road while Adrian spoke. The wise youth chuckled and strolled round the lake, glancing over his shoulder every now and then.
It was not long before he heard a bellow for help—the roar of a dragon in his throes. Adrian placidly sat down on the grass, and fixed his eyes on the water. There, as the roar was being repeated amid horrid resounding echoes, the wise youth mused in this wise—