“Yes, I know she did, but—” Freddy paused, encountering an astonished stare. He was momentarily shaken off his balance, but he made a quick recover. “What I mean is, if my cousins are here, of course she did! Anyone would! You go and tell her I’m here, and I beg the honour of a few words with her.”
He then moved towards the Saloon, and Stobhill, saying unencouragingly: “I will have your message conveyed to Miss, sir,” opened the door for him.
On one side of the fire, the Rattray brothers were playing cribbage; on the other, Lord Dolphinton was doing nothing. Hugh, who had found the cribbage-board, and had inaugurated the game with the self-sacrificing intention of alleviating his brother’s boredom, wore an expression of determined cheerfulness; Lord Biddenden, to whom cribbage was only less insupportable than an evening passed in talking to Hugh, was frankly impatient, made his discards almost at random, and yawned over the totting up of points. His chair faced the door, and it was thus he who first perceived Freddy. “Oh, the devil!” he exclaimed.
Hugh turned to look over his shoulder, and for an instant it seemed as though he doubted the evidence of his eyes. A slight flush mounted to his cheeks; he compressed his austere lips, as though to check some hasty utterance, and with deliberation pushed back his chair, and rose. By this time, Lord Dolphinton had assimilated the fact that another of his cousins had come to Arnside. He looked rather pleased, and said helpfully: “Here’s Freddy! Hallo, Freddy! You here?”
“Hallo, old fellow!” responded Mr. Standen good-naturedly. He drew near the fire, nodding affably to his other cousins, and levelling his quizzing-glass at the card-table. “You above par, George?” he enquired, mildly surprised. “Never seen you play cribbage before in my life! Well, I mean to say—Cribbage!”
“No, I am not!” replied Biddenden crossly. “It’s Hugh!”
“You don’t say so?” said Freddy, bringing his glass to bear on Hugh’s handsome countenance. “Hugh full of frisk? Well, I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Hugh!”
“Do not pretend to be more of a fool than God made you, Freddy!” said Hugh coldly. “You know very well that George did not wish to signify that I was inebriated—if, as I apprehend, that is the meaning of the cant you choose to employ.”
“Something thrown you into gloom?” asked Freddy solicitously. “A trifle out of sorts? Daresay you ate something at dinner that’s making you feel queasy. Devilish bad cook, my uncle’s: never eat a meal here if I can avoid it.”
“Thank you, I was never better in my life,” said Hugh. “May we know what has brought you to Arnside?”