The Hunt Ball Mystery | Page 9

he came to be going to the
Cumberbatch Ball."
"No doubt he got his ticket in the ordinary way," Morriston said.
"It only shows, my dear Dick," his sister observed, "you may quite
easily run risks in giving a semi-public dance in your own house."
Morriston laughed. "Oh, come, Edith," he protested, "we need not
make too much of it. We don't know for certain that the man was a
queer character."
"One finds objectionable swaggerers everywhere," Painswick put in.
"Anyhow," said Kelson, "if this Henshaw was a bad lot he had the
decency to efface himself promptly enough. The puzzle is, what on
earth has become of him?"
"I don't know, Mr. Gifford," Morriston said as the two friends were
leaving, "whether you would care for a ramble over the old place. A
man named Piercy has written to me for permission to go over the
house; he is, it appears, writing a book on the antiquities of the county.
I have asked him to luncheon to-morrow, and we shall be delighted if

you and Kelson will join us as a preliminary to a personally conducted
tour of the house. Charlie Tredworth and his sister are coming over for
a week's stay, so we shall be quite a respectable party."
Naturally Kelson accepted the invitation with alacrity, and Gifford
could do no less than fall in with the arrangement.
"Hope you won't mind going over to Wynford," Kelson said as they
drove back. "If it is at all painful to you from old associations, I'll make
an excuse for you."
Gifford hesitated a moment. "Oh, no," he answered. "I'll come. There is
no use in being sentimental about the place going out of our family, and
these Morristons are quite the right sort of people to have it. A
splendidly thoroughbred type of girl, Miss Morriston."
Kelson laughed. "Oh, yes; a magnificent creature; cut out for a duchess.
Only, you know, my dear Hugh, if I married a woman like that I should
always be a little afraid of her. A magnificent chatelaine and all that,
but too cold for my taste."
"You think there is no deep feeling under the ice of her manner?"
"I don't know," Kelson replied, as though the idea was quite novel to
him. "Never got so far as to think of that. I like a girl with whom you
can get on without going through the process of thawing her first. And
with Edith Morriston I should say it would be a slow process. Anyhow,
she is just the girl for Painswick, who is evidently after her."
"I should say that with him the ice is a little below the surface," Gifford
ventured.
Kelson laughed. "You've hit it, Hugh. He's easy enough, but scratch
him and you come upon a very straight-laced aristocrat. He and the
statuesque Edith Morriston are made for one another."
As they entered the Golden Lion the landlord met them.

"Well, Mr. Dipper, any news of your missing guest?" Kelson inquired
with characteristic cheeriness, ignoring the troubled expression on that
worthy's face.
"No, captain; and we can't imagine what has happened to Mr. Henshaw.
There are three telegrams come for him, and I have just got one,
reply-paid, to ask whether he is staying here."
"And you replied?"
"Went to Hunt Ball 9 last night. Not been here since," Dipper quoted.
"It is rather awkward and unpleasant for me, sir," he added
uncomfortably.
"Oh, you've no responsibility in the matter," Kelson assured him.
"Don't you worry about it, Mr. Dipper. If the man goes out and does not
choose to come back, that, beyond the payment of your charges, can be
no affair of yours. Isn't that so, Hugh?"
"Certainly," Gifford assented.
Still their host looked anything but satisfied.
"Yes, sir, that's quite right; all the same, we are beginning not to like
the look of it. It is very mysterious."
"It is, Mr. Dipper, to say the least of it," Kelson replied. "Still from
such opinion as we were able to form of Mr. Henshaw I don't think it
worth while making much fuss about it. He'll turn up all right and
probably call you a fool for your pains."
"I would not worry about it if I were you," Gifford said quietly.
As they turned to go upstairs a telegraph boy came in and handed his
message to the landlord, who read it and handed it to Kelson.
"Please wire me without fail directly Mr. Henshaw returns. Gervase
Henshaw, 8, Stone Court, Temple, London," Kelson read.

"That's his brother," Gifford observed.
"All right," said Kelson. "Let him worry if he likes. All you have to do,
Mr. Dipper, is what he asks you there."
He went upstairs with Gifford, leaving the landlord reperusing the
telegram, his plump face dark with