The Hunt Ball Mystery | Page 6

a stupid partner."
"Tired?" Kelson remonstrated. "Why, you have been resting at the Lion
waiting for your things while we have been dancing our hardest."
"Resting? No; I went out for a walk," Gifford replied.
"The deuce you did! Where did you go to?"
"Oh, nowhere particular," Gifford answered rather evasively. "Just
about the town."
CHAPTER III
THE STREAK ON THE CUFF
Hugh Gifford did not stay very long at the dance. He took a mouthful
of supper, and then told Kelson that he had a headache and was going
to walk back to the Golden Lion.
Kelson was distressed. "My dear fellow, coming so late and going so
early, it's too bad. This is the best time of the night. I hope the old place
with its memories hasn't distressed you."
"Oh, no," was the answer. "But something has upset me. I'll get back
and turn in. By the way, I don't see that man Henshaw."
"No," Kelson replied casually; "I haven't seen him lately. But then I've
had something better to think about than that ineffable bounder. He was
here all right in the early part of the evening. One couldn't see anything
else."
"Dancing?"
"More or less. Well, if you will go, old fellow, do make yourself
comfortable at the Lion and call for anything you fancy. I'm dancing

this waltz."
Gifford left the dance and went back to the hotel. He seemed perplexed
and worried, so much so that for some time he paced his room
restlessly and then, instead of turning in, he went back to the
sitting-room, lighted a pipe, and settled himself there to await his
friend's return.
It was nearly three o'clock when Kelson came in.
"Why, Hugh!" he exclaimed in surprise. "Still up?"
"I didn't feel like sleeping," Gifford answered, "and if I'm to keep
awake I'd rather stay up."
Kelson looked at him curiously. "I hope the visit to your old home
hasn't been too much for you," he remarked with the limited sympathy
of a strong man whose nerves are not easily affected.
"Oh, no," Gifford assured him. "Although somehow I did feel rather
out of it. I have had rather a teasing day, but I shall be all right in the
morning, and am looking forward to a run round the scenes of my
childhood."
"Good," Kelson responded, relieved to think his friend's visit was not
after all going to be as dismal as he had begun to fear. "Well, Hugh," he
added gaily. "I have a piece of news for you."
"Not that you are engaged?"
Something, an almost apprehensive touch, in Gifford's tone rather took
his friend aback.
"Why not?"
"To Miss--the girl you were dancing with?"
Again Gifford's tone gave a check to Kelson's enthusiasm.

It was with a more serious face that he replied, "Muriel Tredworth, the
best girl in England. I hope, my dear Hugh, you are not going to say
you don't think so."
"Certainly not," Gifford answered promptly. "I never saw or heard of
her before to-night."
Kelson laughed uncomfortably. A man in love and in the flush of
acceptance wants something more than a lukewarm reception of the
news. "I'm glad to hear it," he responded dryly. "From your tone one
might almost imagine that you knew something against Muriel."
"Heaven forbid!" Gifford ejaculated fervently.
"You don't congratulate me," his friend returned with a touch of
suspicion.
Gifford forced a laugh. "My dear Harry, you have taken my breath
away. You deserve the best wife in the kingdom, and I sincerely hope
you have got her," he said, not very convincingly.
His half-heartedness, not too successfully masked, evidently struck
Kelson. "One would hardly suppose you thought so," he said in a hurt
tone. "I wish," he added warmly, "if there is anything at the back of
your words you would speak out. I should hope we are old friends
enough for that."
Gifford glanced at the worried face of the big, simple-minded
sportsman, more or less a child in his knowledge of the subtleties of
human nature, and as he did so his heart smote him.
"We are, and I hope we always shall be," he declared, grasping his
hand. "You are making too much of my unfortunate manner to-night,
and I'm sorry. With all my heart I congratulate you, and wish you every
blessing and all happiness."
There was an unmistakable ring of sincerity in his speech now, and,
without going aside to question its motive, as a more penetrating mind

might have done, Kelson accepted his friend's congratulations without
question.
"Thanks, old fellow," he responded, brightening as he returned the
grasp of Gifford's hand. "I was sure of your good wishes. You need not
fear I have made a mistake. Muriel is a thorough good sort, and we
shall suit each