“‘Is the big drum safe?’ But, I say, how jolly it is to meet you again, old fellow. Don’t you remember that last evening at Harton, we said we were sure to meet, we three; and here we are, you see. But, I say, this is a bad story for Kavanagh about this will being missing, is it not? Bad for you, too, though. Your mother was in it, was she not?”
“Yes; but as the testator’s sister she will come in for something, probably, anyhow. True, it is mostly land, and I believe an uncle abroad will inherit that. But I don’t know the legal rights of the matter yet quite. Anyhow, she has something of her own, and I have learned how to get work and earn my bread by it. So all round it is worse for Kavanagh. What is his chance of passing?”
“Not very good, I fear,” said Strachan. “I don’t feel safe, and I have read more than he has. And he is such a good fellow! He was awfully sorry about Mr Burke’s death, but made no trouble whatever of the missing will. That is, of course, he thought the prospect of being penniless a great bore, but he never got into low spirits, or worried others about it. And with his tastes and ideas, too!”
“Yes,” said Harry; “fellows at Harton used to think him a tremendous swell. And those who did not know him were apt to take a prejudice against him. ‘Lady Kavanagh’ some called him, you remember. But we must have a long talk, we three, for my time is short; I must go back to-morrow. Kavanagh proposed a walk after lunch.”
“Certainly, if you like. We generally walk over to Farnham on a fine Sunday afternoon: where the bishop’s palace is.”
“I know. I have often heard of Farnham, and should like to see it,” said Harry. And others coming in, the conversation became general.
Then lunch time arrived, and was on the table very punctually, though Harry did not want anything. But with the majority, who had breakfasted before eight, it was different. Kavanagh came in ready dressed for the walk, and expressed impatience at Strachan being still in uniform.
“I have got to pay my company,” explained Strachan; “but I shall do it directly the dinners are over, and then it won’t take me five minutes to change.” And he was as good as his word, for by a quarter to two he was ready to start.
It was a fine afternoon and a pretty walk; round the end of the Long Valley by Cocked Hat Wood, skirting the steeple-chase course; through shady lanes to the wild furze-clad common land; up the sides of the hill range, where the old Roman encampments can still be clearly traced.
“This one looks precious modern,” said Harry, doubtfully.