The Hunt Ball Mystery | Page 3

"Any relation to Gervase Henshaw?" Gifford asked.
"He is my brother. You know him?"
"Only by reputation at my profession, the Bar. And I came across a
book of his the other day."
"Ah, yes. Gervase scribbles when he has time. He is by way of being an
authority on criminology."
"And is, I should say," Gifford added civilly.
"Yes; he is a smart fellow. Has the brains of the family. I'm all for sport
and the open-air life."
"And yet," thought Gifford, glancing at the dark, rather intriguing face
opposite to him, "you don't look a sportsman. More a viveur than a
regular open-air man, more at home in London or Paris than in the
stubbles or covert." But he merely nodded acceptance of Henshaw's
statement.
"My name is Kelson," the soldier said, supplying an omission due to
Henshaw's talk of himself. "I have hunted this country pretty regularly
since I left the Service. And my friend is Hugh Gifford."
"Gifford? Did not Wynford Place where we are going to-night belong

to the Giffords?" Henshaw asked, curiosity overcoming tact.
"Yes," Gifford answered, "to an uncle of mine. He sold it lately to
Morriston."
"Ah; a pity. Fine old place," Henshaw observed casually. "Naturally
you know it well."
"I have had very good times there," Gifford answered, with a certain
reserve as though disinclined to discuss the subject with a stranger. "I
have come down now also for old acquaintance' sake," he added
casually.
"I see," Henshaw responded. "Not altogether pleasant, though, to see an
old family place in the hands of strangers. Personally, when a thing is
irrevocably gone, as, I take it, Wynford Place is, I believe in letting it
slide out of one's mind, and having no sentiment about it."
"No doubt a very convenient plan," Gifford replied dryly. "All the same,
if I can retrieve my evening kit, which has gone astray, I hope to enjoy
myself at Wynford Place to-night without being troubled with undue
sentimentality."
"Good," Henshaw responded with what seemed a half-smothered yawn.
"Regret for a thing that is gone past recall does not pay; though as long
as there is a chance of getting it I believe in never calling oneself
beaten. Here we are at the Lion."
CHAPTER II
THE STAINED FLOWERS
"What do you think of our acquaintance?" Gifford said as they settled
down in the private room of Kelson, who made the Golden Lion his
hunting quarters.
"Not much. In fact, I took a particular dislike to the fellow. Wrong type
of sportsman, eh?"

"Decidedly. Fine figure of a man and good-looking enough, but spoilt
by that objectionable, cock-sure manner."
"And I should say a by no means decent character."
"A swanker to the finger-tips. And that implies a liar."
"Not worth discussing," Kelson said. "He goes to-morrow. I made a
point of inquiring how long he had engaged his room for. One night."
"Good. Then we shan't be under the ungracious necessity of shaking
him off. I can't tell you how sick I am, Harry, at the loss of my things."
"No more than I am, my dear fellow. If only a suit of mine would fit
you. But that's hopeless."
They both laughed ruefully at the idea, for Captain Kelson looked
nearly twice the size of his friend.
"We'll hope they'll arrive in time for you to see something of the fun at
any rate," Kelson said. "I'm in no hurry; I'll wait with you."
"You will do nothing of the sort, Harry," Gifford protested. "Do you
think I can't amuse myself for an hour or two alone? You'll go off at the
proper time. Absurd to wait till every decent girl's card is full."
"I don't like it, Hugh."
"Nor do I. But it is practically my fault in not looking sharper after my
luggage, and better one should suffer than two."
So it was arranged that Captain Kelson should go on alone and his
guest should follow as soon as his clothes turned up and he could
change into them.
That settled, they sat down to dinner.
"Tell me about the Morristons, Harry," Gifford said. "He is a very good
fellow, isn't he?"

"Dick Morriston? One of the best. Straight goer to hounds and straight
in every other capacity, I should say. You know they used to live at
Friar's Norton, near here, before they bought your uncle's place."
"Yes, I know. What is the sister like?"
"A fine, handsome girl," Kelson answered, without enthusiasm. "Rather
too cold and statuesque for my taste, although I have heard she has a bit
of the devil in her. Quite a sportswoman, and as good after hounds as
her brother. They say she had a thin time of it with her step-mother, and
has come out wonderfully since the old lady