“All right, done!” I said.
“What is your bet, Sir Junius?” asked Lord Ragnall, who was approaching again.
“It is rather a long story,” he answered, “but, to put it shortly, years ago, when I was travelling in Africa, Mr. Quatermain and I had a dispute as to a sum of £5 which he thought I owed him, and to save argument about a trifle we have agreed that I should shoot against him for it to-day.”
“Indeed,” said Lord Ragnall rather seriously, for I could see that he did not believe Van Koop’s statement as to the amount of the bet; perhaps he had heard more than we thought. “To be frank, Sir Junius, I don’t much care for betting—for that’s what it comes to—here. Also I think Mr. Quatermain said yesterday that he had never shot pheasants in England, so the match seems scarcely fair. However, you gentlemen know your own business best. Only I must tell you both that if money is concerned, I shall have to set someone whose decision will be final to count your birds and report the number to me.”
“Agreed,” said Van Koop, or, rather, Sir Junius; but I answered nothing, for, to tell the truth, already I felt ashamed of the whole affair.
As it happened, Lord Ragnall and I walked together ahead of the others, to the first covert, which was half a mile or more away.
“You have met Sir Junius before?” he said to me interrogatively.
“I have met Mr. van Koop before,” I answered, “about twelve years since, shortly after which he vanished from South Africa, where he was a well-known and very successful—speculator.”
“To reappear here. Ten years ago he bought a large property in this neighbourhood. Three years ago he became a baronet.”
“How did a man like Van Koop become a baronet?” I inquired.