Just as yours is, you know.

"Mixed love and straight-out killing haven't been respectable since the time when Catherine de' Medici shoved every pleasant way of getting on under a cloud. How I do wish I had lived when you could kill a man by shaking hands! If that were possible now, I know what I'd do to lots of men."

"What?" asked Carleigh, quickly.

"I'd never shake hands any more. I'd kiss them all instead. It would be so humane and blameless--and nice."

He felt all the blood in him bound out of his heart to meet her whimsy.

"You darling!" he cried ecstatically. "What could be nicer? A fig for your tragedies. We'll just flirt--and--and--"

He seized her and was drawing her into a close embrace. His face was scarlet, his pupils distended.

"The guns are just there on the hill," she said, ever so calmly. "Better wait!"

Carleigh released her with reluctance, but his expanded pupils were still devouring her.

"I _am_ a new man," he whispered pa.s.sionately. "Darling, oh, darling!

I'm so glad I came."

Neither of them saw the tall form of Lord Kneedrock, who, at a little distance stood watching them, a bitterly satirical smile upon his lips.

CHAPTER XIII

Surprises for the Broken-Hearted

A little beyond, the forty beaters stood huddled together like a pack of hounds.

The head-keeper, that personage of indescribable majesty and humility, was consulting with Bellingdown, who looked very anxious.

The duke was taking a last sip and a nibble, while his hostess begged him not to hurry. All the rest were lighting cigarettes.

"You smoke, of course," Carleigh was asking Mrs. Darling.

"Of course."

"Shall I give you a light?"

"Thanks."

"I stick to a pipe," said Kneedrock, dragging one out of his huge, shapeless pocket.

"It is a nice thing," volunteered the duke. "I often smoke one at home.

I say, Doody, don't I often smoke a pipe at home?"

"Yes, he does," the d.u.c.h.ess verified. "He smokes one all the time at Puddlewood."

"Shall we join the guns?" Lady Bellingdown asked, rising and addressing the women generally.

"I can't," refused Charlotte Grey. "I can't see things killed. Sometimes they cry out, and it makes me dreadfully ill."

Bellingdown turned about with a worried air. "Here, Greggy, what do you say? Hemmings thinks the spinney there to the left. I'd thought only of Daggs Farm, and so on by the mill."

Sir George, whom they called "Greggy," looked as if the whole of the Far East was hanging on his nod. He silently considered.

"I tell m'lud that the spinney's quite fresh, sir," said Hemmings, touching his cap respectfully. "M'lud saw a fine bag off there last year, sir."

"What do _you_ say?" pleaded Lord Bellingdown, quite visibly agitated.

The other men gathered about, all obviously perturbed.

"Hand me my field-gla.s.ses," commanded Sir George. "My man has them."

Sir George's man, carrying Sir George's two guns, came hurriedly forward with Sir George's field-gla.s.ses. Every one pressed close and glanced back and forth between the baronet and the spinney, which was an exceedingly ordinary spinney with some fir-trees beyond.

The owner of the field-gla.s.ses raised them, adjusted them, lowered them, readjusted them, raised them again and took a long look.

"I should toss up for it," he decided, without deciding.

"What an old fool he is!" the d.u.c.h.ess observed confidentially into the ear of Charlotte Grey, who started visibly.

"Who do you mean?" asked Lady Grey sharply.

Then the d.u.c.h.ess started, too.

"I thought you were Nina Darling," she confessed. "I meant the head-keeper, of course. Who else could I mean?"

"Oh!" said Lady Grey coldly.

"But where is dear Nina?" the d.u.c.h.ess blandly inquired. "Such a charming person! She always livens one up so. I'm really very fond of Nina. We do so enjoy her whenever she comes to Puddlewood."

"She's just getting out of sight there," replied Lady Grey, still more coldly. "That's Sir Caryll with her. It seems he's given up shooting since his jilting."

"Shall we go on with the guns?" queried Lady Bellingdown. "It's just as you like, d.u.c.h.ess."

"Oh, if I can do as I like I'll go home with the china and the butler and the pony-cart," her grace answered. "It would be something new to do."

Kneedrock laughed and hooked his arm through hers.

"I've a nice upholstered car turning up at three," he told her in an undertone. "Be patient and I'll provide for you."

"But there are two cars waiting now," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "Oh, I see.

You're making a joke. But such a poor joke, Nibbetts, dear."

"Do let us settle on what to do," begged the hostess. "Shall we walk with the guns or go home at once?"