The Hunt Ball Mystery | Page 8

down here
for--a tender adventure. That's the only kind of hunting he is keen on,
take my word for it."
"I quite agree with you there," Gifford answered with conviction, and
the subject dropped.
When they returned for luncheon they found that nothing had been
heard of the _Golden Lion's_ missing guest.
"It is rather an extraordinary move of our friend's," Kelson observed
with a laugh. "He surely can't be living all this time in his evening
clothes. Not but what a man like that would not let a trifle stand in his
way if he had some scampish sport in view. No doubt he is up to a
dodge or two by way of obviating these little difficulties."
In the afternoon the two friends went up to Wynford Place to call after
the dance. Kelson had naturally been much more inclined to drive over
to the Tredworths, about seven miles away, in order to settle his
betrothal, but Gifford suggested that the duty call should be paid first,
and so it was arranged. To Kelson's delight he heard that Muriel
Tredworth and her brother were coming over next day to stay with the
Morristons for another dance in the neighbourhood and a near meet of
the hounds; so he, warming to the Morristons, chatted away in all a
lover's high spirits.

"By the way," he said presently, as they sat over tea, "rather an
extraordinary thing has happened at the Golden Lion."
"What's that?" asked his host.
"Did you notice a man named Henshaw here last night? A big, dark
fellow, probably a stranger to you, but by way of being a former
follower of the Cumberbatch."
"An old fellow?" Morriston asked.
"Oh, no. About six-and-thirty, I should say; eh, Hugh?"
"Under forty, certainly," Gifford answered.
"Tall and very dark, almost to swarthiness; of course I remember the
man."
Morriston exclaimed with sudden recollection. "I introduced him to a
partner."
"I noticed the fellow," observed Lord Painswick, who also was calling.
"Theatrical sort of chap. What has he done?"
Kelson laughed. "Simply disappeared, that's all."
"Disappeared!" There was a chorus of interest.
"How do you mean?" Morriston asked.
"Left the hotel at nine last night and has never turned up since," Kelson
said with an air of telling an amusing story. "Poor Host Dipper is taking
it quite tragically, notwithstanding the satisfactory point in the case that
the egregious Henshaw's elaborate kit still remains in his unoccupied
bedroom."
"Do you mean to say he never came back all night?" Miss Morriston
asked.

"Never," Kelson assured her. "Old Dipper came to us, half asleep, at
four o'clock to ask whether he was justified in locking up the
establishment."
"And nothing has been seen or heard of the man since," Gifford put in.
"That is queer," Morriston said, as though scarcely knowing whether to
take it seriously or otherwise. "Now I come to think of it I don't
recollect seeing anything of the man after quite the first part of the
evening. Did you, Painswick?"
"No, can't say I did," Painswick answered.
"And," observed Kelson, "he was not a man to be easily overlooked
when he was on show. I missed him, not altogether disagreeably, after
the early dances."
"What is the idea?" Edith Morriston inquired. "Is there any theory to
account for his disappearance?"
"No," Kelson answered, "unless a discreditable one. Gone off at a
tangent."
"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