"Hello, Wally," I shouted in response to the groom's salute and broad grin. "Is Captain Harry home?"
"Yes, sir! Three hours agone, sir. 'E's just agoing for a canter, sir, for the good of 'is 'ealth."
I went inside.
"Hi! William," I cried to the retreating figure of our portly and aristocratic butler. "Where's Harry?"
"Captain Harry, sir, is in the armoury. Any message, sir?"
"No! it is all right, William. I shall go along in and see him."
I went down the corridor, to the most ancient part of Hazelmere House; the old armoury, with its iron-studded oaken doors and its suggestion of spooks and goblins. I pushed in to that sombre-looking place, which held so many grim secrets of feudal times. How many drinking orgies and all-night card parties had been held within its portals, I dared not endeavour to surmise. As to how many plots had been hatched behind its studded doors, how many affairs of honour had been settled for all time under its high-panelled roof,—there was only a meagre record; but those we knew of had been bloody and not a few.
Figures, in suits of armour, stood in every corner; two-edged swords, shields of brass and cowhide, blunderbusses and breech-loading pistols hung from the walls, while the more modern rifles and fowling pieces were ranged in orderly fashion along the far side.
The light was none too good in there, and I failed, at first, to discover the object of my quest.
"How do, farmer Giles?" came that slow, drawling, sarcastic voice which I knew so well.