“No. I saw two ducks—that is to say, a duck and a drake; they were running away together—flying away, I mean—they were being pursued by their uncle.”
“Ducks haven’t uncles,” said Lord Gawdor.
“He was a hawk,” said Mr Fanshawe. “With Patsy’s help I shot the hawk, and the ducks flew away, and were happy ever after.”
“How interesting!” said Miss Lestrange.
“Funny thing, the same thing happened one morning before Christmas. It was a Friday morning—what’s to-day—Tuesday—well, it was a Friday morning. It might have been next Friday morning, as the old women say, I saw two ducks flying away pursued by a hawk.”
“Did they escape?” asked Doris.
“They did.”
“How did you see them, Mr Fanshawe?” asked Lord Gawdor.
“With my eyes,” replied Mr Fanshawe.
“But it’s black dark at four.”