'So soon—yes,' said he.
'Had good shooting at Bickerton?' asked Cecil Falconer, feeling that it required a double effort to be complaisant to Hew just then, and to slide into the commonplaces required by society.
'Pretty fairish—knocked over a few rocketters or so. There were ten guns out. But how do you two come to be here?' he asked bluntly and almost rudely.
'Sir Piers requested Miss Montgomerie to show me where an ancient lamp had been found,' replied Cecil, with some annoyance of manner.
Hew muttered something unpleasant under his moustache, as he thought that the 'ancient lamp' had thrown more light on their proceedings than he anticipated, and drawing Mary's arm through his own, he said sharply and curtly:
'Let us go back to the house, or we shall be late.'
Cecil's handsome mouth was compressed with sternness at the abruptness of Hew's bearing, tone, and words. His small and well-cut nostrils quivered, and his eyes flashed with the anger which, despite his recent joy, he felt a difficulty in restraining.
Hew was sharp enough to see this; but feeling himself somewhat master of the situation, and a species of marplot, he gave one of his strange smiles, and said something that might mean anything or nothing, as he appropriated Mary and marched off with her towards the house.
How long he might have been eavesdropping, and how much or how little of their conversation he might have overheard, or what he might have overseen, it was impossible for them to conjecture; but extreme annoyance clouded the fair face of Mary, and bitter chagrin was but ill concealed in that of Falconer.
'Pray do not quarrel with Hew,' Mary found opportunity to say in a rapid whisper; 'you know not his power in the art of scheming, manœuvring, and mischief.'