Thompson was puzzled. He had examined the letters an hour earlier. But he agreed that a telegram was the thing.
Sir Charles wrote: “Expected to hear from you. Will you be home to lunch? Want to see you about some hunters”; and addressed it to his wife at her sister’s residence.
“There,” he said, turning to his coffee and sole. “That will fetch her. We are off to Leicestershire next week, Thompson. By the way, I am going to a sale at Tattersall’s. Send a groom there with her ladyship’s answer when it comes.”
He had not been long at the sale yard when a servant arrived with a telegram.
“Ah, the post-office people are quick this morning,” he said, smiling. He opened the envelope and read:
“Want to see you at once.—Dick.”
He was so surprised by the unexpected nature of the message that he read the words aloud mechanically. But he soon understood, and smiled again.
“Go back quickly,” he said to the man, “and tell Thompson to send along the next telegram.”
A consignment of Waterford hunters was being sold at the time, and the baronet was checking the animals’ descriptions on the catalogue, when he was cheerily addressed:
“Hallo, Dyke, preparing for the shires, eh?”