"And still in his evening things?" Painswick said with a laugh. "Rather uncomfortable this weather."
"That reminds me," Morriston said with sudden animation, "one of the footmen brought me a fur coat and a soft hat this morning and asked me if they were mine. They had been unclaimed after the dance and he had ascertained that they belonged to none of the men who were staying here. Nor were they mine."
"That is most curious," Kelson said with a mystified air. "Henshaw was wearing a fur coat and soft hat when we saw him in the hall of the Lion just before starting. Don't you remember, Hugh?"
"Yes; certainly he was," Gifford answered.
"Then they must be his," Morriston concluded.
"And where is he—without them?" Painswick added with a laugh.
"Dead of cold?"
"It is altogether quite mysterious," Morriston observed with a puzzled air. "He can't be here still."
"Hardly," his sister replied. "You know him?" she asked Kelson.
"Quite casually. So far as nearly coming to a rough and tumble with the fellow for his cheek in scoffing our fly at the station constitutes an acquaintance. Gifford acted as peacemaker, and we put up with the fellow's company to the town. But neither of us imbibed a particularly high opinion of the sportsman, did we, Hugh?"
"No," Gifford assented; "his was not a taking character, to men at any rate; and we rather wondered how he came to be going to the Cumberbatch Ball."