"Oh, it wasn't your fault, Maurice," I said generously.
"I should describe it rather as Francis's misfortune," put in Lady Baradell.
"Well, we'll leave you to discuss it over your port," said Aunt Mary, rising from her chair. "You'll find us in the billiard-room, Maurice, when you've done."
As soon as we were alone, Maurice pulled his chair up alongside of mine. "Are you game for some shooting to-morrow, Stuart?" he asked. "I thought if it was fine we might go out after dusk. Reece says they're coming in now in good quantities."
"Yes," I said quietly. "I'm quite ready for any amount of shooting."
"That's good," said Maurice heartily. "With four guns, we ought to get some fine sport."
I was inclined to agree with him, but any observation that I might have made to this effect was cut short by Sir George Vane, who promptly took the opening afforded by the mention of ducks to plunge into another ancient and, this time, rather obscene tale. We listened courteously until the ordeal was over, and then Maurice suggested a move into the billiard-room. Here we found Miss York practising strokes with some skill, while Aunt Mary and Lady Baradell looked on.
"I've got to go out a minute and interview the keeper," said Maurice. "Suppose you four have a game of snooker till I come back. I shan't be very long, and Vane will score for you."
The suggestion filled me with a momentary uneasiness. As it happens, I am rather above the average as a snooker-player, three years' constant practice in Buenos Ayres with some of the most accomplished sharpers in the world having left a decidedly beneficial effect on my game. On the other hand, I had no idea how Northcote played, or whether he played at all.
Captain York relieved my embarrassment.