Mildred cast a sidelong look of caution at her brother, to warn him against alluding to a third person, whom it was not discreet to mention.
"And there," said Henry, taking the sign, "when I got up to him he was stone dead. I would almost think a deer couldn't be shot dead so suddenly. But Stephen can pitch his lead, as he calls it, just where he likes."
"Well, it isn't fair to inquire who killed him," said Lindsay. "One hunter often turns the game to the other's rifle. And, at all events, your dogs, Henry, I dare say, did as much as either of you."
"Hylas was just at his heels when he was shot," replied Henry; "and a better dog there isn't in Amherst, or Albemarle to boot."
"Well, well! Let us to breakfast. Where is our guest? Tyrrel is surely out before this."
"He has been gone from the Dove Cote more than an hour," said Henry. "He told me to say, that some sudden news took him off in haste. I would have waked you, but he forbade it. His man, Curry, who was waiting for him at the ford, I dare say, brought him some dispatches."
"It was very sudden," said Lindsay, musing; "the great game will be shortly played."
"My dear father, you have not your usual look of health," said Mildred again. "I fear something disturbs you."
"A slight cold, only, from exposure to the night air, perhaps. You did not see Tyrrel this morning, Mildred?"
"I did not wish to see him, father. I was up when he set out, but I was not in his way."