"O egad, sir—strike me everlasting blue, 'tis we have been doing for you! Here we've caught your rogue for you—chased him high—chased him low—here, there and everywhere—bushes, burrs and briers, dirt and dust sir—O demmit!
"If," began the Major, "if you will have the goodness to be a little more explicit——"
But here the short, plump, fierce-eyed gentleman in the scratch-wig, elbowing aside the yokels who stood near strode forward excitedly:
"You are Major d'Arcy?" he challenged.
The Major bowed.
"Why then, sir, give me leave to say we've had the extreme good fortune to catch a poacher on your land. You'll know me of course. I'm Sir Oliver Rington of Chevening."
"No!" said the Major.
"Then you'll have heard of me, to be sure?"
"I fear not."
"Sir, I'm your member—and——"