‘You fool! Can none of you see when I am in earnest? Will that teach you?’
A pistol shot followed the last word, and Martin gasped.
‘Good God! He hasn’t shot him?’ The words broke from Abbershaw in horror.
Martin remained silent, and then a whisper of horror escaped the flippant Mr Campion.
‘Shot him?’ he said. ‘No. The unmitigated arch-idiot has shot one of the hounds. Just caught the tail end of the pack. Hullo! Here comes the huntsman with the field bouncing up behind him like Queen Victoria rampant. Now he’s for it.’
The noise below grew to a babel, and Albert Campion turned a pink, excited face towards the anxious group behind him.
‘How like the damn fool Guffy,’ he said. ‘So upset about the hound he’s forgotten me.’
He returned to his look-out, and the next moment his voice resounded cheerfully over the tumult.
‘I think they’re going to lynch Poppa von Faber. I say, I’m enjoying this.’
Now that the danger was less imminent, the spirits of the whole party were reviving rapidly.