Through the early stillness, he could hear the faint murmur of the Devon, gurgling in the depths of the ravine between him and the nearest hill. “To-morrow,” he thought, “will begin the true life! All this will be my home—mine! mine! and before anybody is up in the morning I will be down where that river of black water runs, and fish in the deep pools for trout.”
Some one touched his elbow. He turned with a quick nod and smile to greet Dicky Westland. “I am up ages before you, you see,” he said genially. “It was barely daylight when I woke—and I suffered tortures trying to remain in bed even till six. Oh, this is wonderful out here!”
“Awfully jolly place, all round,” commented Dicky. He blinked to exorcise the spirit of sleep and gazed at the prospect with determined enthusiasm. “I haven’t looked about much, but I’ve found out one thing already. There’s a ghost in my room—and I think he must have been a professional pedestrian in life.”
“Splendid!” cried Christian, gaily. “Have you had coffee—or it is tea you people drink, isn’t it? Then shall we get to work? I want the papers out of the way before Emanuel comes. They will all be here between nine and ten. I wanted to send carriages to Craven Arms, but it seemed there were not horses enough, so hired traps are to be brought up from the station.”
“Do you know who are coming?”
“Lord Julius, and Emanuel and his wife; the captain and his wife and brother; Lord Chobham, and Lord Lingfield—I don’t know if any of their women will come—and Lady Cressage. Then there are some solicitors, and perhaps some old acquaintances of my grandfather’s. At all events, Welldon has ordered four carriages and a break. There is to be breakfast at ten, and I shall be glad when it is all over—when everything is over. Do you know?—I have never been to a funeral in my life—and I rather funk it.”
“Oh, they’re not so bad as you always think they’re going to be,” said the secretary, consolingly. “The main thing is the gloves. I never could understand it—but black gloves are invariably about two sizes smaller than ordinary colors. You want to look out for that. But I dare say your man is up to the trick—he looks a knowing party, does Falkner.”
“I fancy I shall give him back to Emanuel,” remarked Christian, thoughtfully.
“He is an excellent servant, but he reminds me too much of Duke Street. Did you notice the old butler yesterday afternoon?—he stood at the head of the steps to meet us—that is old Barlow. I have a great affection for him. I shall have him valet me, I think.”
“Isn’t he rather venerable for the job?” suggested the other. “And wouldn’t it be rather a come-down for a head butler? They’re awfully keen about their distinctions among themselves, you know.”