The Hunt Ball Mystery | Page 4

died. Lord Painswick, who
lives near here, is supposed to be very sweet on her. Perhaps the affair
will develop to-night. The ball will be rather a toney affair."
"Morriston has plenty of money?"
"Heaps. And the sister is an heiress too. The old man did not nearly live
up to his income and there were big accumulations."
"Which enabled the son to buy our property," Gifford said with a tinge
of bitterness. "Well, it might have been worse. Wynford has not passed
into the hands of some Jew millionaire or City speculator, but has gone
to a gentleman, a good fellow and a sportsman, eh?"
"Yes; Dick Morriston is all that. As the place had to go, you could not
have found a better man to succeed your people."
When the time came to start for the ball Gifford went down to see his
friend off and to repeat his orders concerning the immediate delivery of
his suit-case when it should arrive. Henshaw was in the hall, bulking
big in a fur coat and complaining in a masterful tone of the
unpunctuality of his fly. A handsome fellow, Gifford was constrained
to acknowledge, and of a strong, positive character; the type of man, he
thought, who could be very fascinating to women--and very brutal.
He dropped his rather bullying manner as he caught sight of the two
friends; and, noticing Gifford's morning clothes, made a casually
sympathetic remark on his bad luck.

"Oh, I shall come on when my things arrive, which ought to be soon,"
Gifford responded coldly, disliking the man and his rather obvious
insincerity.
"We might have driven over together," Henshaw said, addressing
Kelson. "But I hardly cared to propose it after the line you took at the
station."
There was an unpleasant curl of the lip as he spoke the words almost
vindictively, as though with intent to put Kelson in the wrong.
But his sneer had no effect on the ex-Cavalryman.
"I am driving over in my own trap," he replied coolly, ignoring the
other's intent. "You will be a good deal more comfortable in a closed
carriage."
"Decidedly," Henshaw returned with a laugh. "I am not so fond of an
east wind as to get more of it than can be helped. And, after all, it is
best to go independently to an affair of this sort. One may get bored
and want to leave early."
Kelson nodded with a grim appreciation of the man's trick of argument,
and went out to his waiting dog-cart. Henshaw's fly drove up as Gifford
turned back from the door.
"I suppose we shall see you towards midnight," he said lightly as he
passed Gifford, his tone clearly suggesting his utter indifference in the
matter.
"I dare say," Gifford replied, and as he went upstairs he heard an order
given for "Mr. Henshaw's fire in number 9 to be kept up against his
return."
Alone in the oak-panelled sitting-room Gifford settled down to wait for
his clothes. He skimmed through several picture-papers that were lying
about, and then took up a novel. But a restless fit was on him, and he
could not settle down to read. He threw aside the book and began

thinking of the old property which his uncle had muddled away, and
recalling the happy times he had spent there from his schooldays
onwards. Memories of the rambling old house and its park crowded
upon him. By force of one circumstance or another he had not been
there for nearly ten years, and a great impatience to see it again took
hold of him. He looked at the clock. At the best, supposing there were
no hitch, his suit-case could hardly arrive for another hour and a half.
Wynford Place was a bare mile away, perhaps twenty minutes' walk;
the night was fine and moonlight, he was getting horribly bored in that
room; he would stroll out and have a look at the outside of the old place.
After all, it was only the exterior that he could expect to find unaltered;
doubtless the Morristons with their wealth had transformed the interior
almost out of his knowledge. Anyhow he would see that later. Just then
he simply longed for a sight of the ancient house with its detached
tower and the familiar landmarks.
Accordingly he filled a pipe, put on a thick overcoat and a golf cap and
went out, leaving word of his return within the hour.
But it was a good two hours before he reappeared, and the landlord,
who met him with the news that the missing suit-case had been
awaiting him in his room since twenty minutes past ten, was struck by a
certain peculiarity in his manner. It was nothing very much beyond a
suggestion of suppressed excitement and that