The Hunt Ball Mystery. Sir William Magnay

      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 other down to the ground. We've every chance of happiness."

      Before Gifford could reply there came a knock at the door. The landlord entered.

      "Beg your pardon, captain," he said, "I'm sorry to trouble you, but could you tell me whether they are keeping up the Hunt Ball very late?"

      "No, Mr. Dipper," Kelson answered. "It was all over long ago. I was one of the last to come away. We left to the strains of the National Anthem."

      Mr. Dipper's face assumed a perplexed expression.

      "Thank you, captain," he said. "My reason for asking the question is that

       Mr. Henshaw, who has a room here, has not come in."

      "Not come in?" Kelson repeated. "Too bad to keep you up, Mr. Dipper."

      "Well, captain," said the landlord, "you see it is getting on for four o'clock, and we want to lock up. Of course if the ball was going on we should be prepared to keep open all night if necessary. But my drivers told me an hour ago it was over."

      "So it was. I wonder"—Kelson turned to Gifford—"what can have become of the egregious Henshaw. I don't think, as I told you in the ball-room, I have seen him since ten o'clock."

      Gifford shrugged. "Unless he has come across friends and gone off with them."

      "He couldn't well do that without calling here for his things," Kelson objected. "I suppose he did not do that, unknown to you?" he asked the landlord.

      "No, captain. His things are all laid out in his room, and the fire kept up as he ordered."

      "Then I don't know what has become of him," Kelson returned, manifestly not interested in the subject. "I certainly should not keep open any longer. If Mr. Henshaw turns up at an unreasonable hour, let him wait and get in when he can. Don't you think so, Hugh?"

      Gifford nodded. "I think, considering the hour, Mr. Dipper will be quite justified in locking up," he answered.

      "Thank you, gentlemen; I will. Goodnight," and the landlord departed.

      Kelson turned to a side table and poured out a drink.

      "Decent fellow, Dipper, and uniformly obliging," he said. "I certainly don't see why he should be inconvenienced and kept out of his bed by that swanker, who has probably gone off with some pal and hasn't had the decency to leave word to that effect. Bad style of man altogether. Hullo! What's this?"

      "What's the matter?"

      Gifford crossed to Kelson, who was looking at his shirt-cuff.

      "What's this?"

      A dark red streak was on the white linen.

      "Hanged if it doesn't look like blood," Kelson said, holding it to the light.

      Gifford caught his arm and scrutinized the stain.

      "It is blood," he said positively.

CHAPTER IV

       Table of Contents

      THE MISSING GUEST

      Next morning Captain Kelson took his guest for a long drive round the neighbourhood. Before starting he asked the landlord at what time Henshaw had returned.

      "He didn't come in at all, captain," Dipper answered in an aggrieved tone. "His fire was kept up all night for nothing."

      "I suppose he has been here this morning," Kelson observed casually.

      "No," was the prompt reply. "Nothing has been seen or heard of him here since he left last night for the ball."

      Kelson whistled. "That looks rather queer, doesn't it, Hugh?"

      Gifford nodded. "Very, I should say. What do you make of it?" he asked the landlord.

      That worthy spread out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "It's beyond me, gentlemen. We can none of us make it out. I've never known anything quite like it happen all the years I've been in the business."

      "Oh, you'll have an explanation in the course of the morning all right," said Kelson with a smile at the host's worry. "Don't take it too seriously; it isn't worth it. You've got Mr. Henshaw's luggage, which indemnifies you, and he is manifestly a person quite capable of taking care of himself."

      Mr. Dipper gave a doubtful jerk of the head. "It is very mysterious all the same."

      Kelson laughed as he went off with his friend.

      "I'm afraid I can't get up much interest in the doings of the objectionable Henshaw," he remarked lightly as they started off. "Such men as he know what they are about, and are not too punctilious with regard to other people's inconvenience."

      "No," Gifford responded quietly. "All the same, his non-appearance is a little mysterious."

      Kelson blew away the suggestion of mystery in a short, contemptuous laugh.

      "Oh, he is probably up to some devilry with some fool of a girl," he said in an offhand tone. "I know the type of man. They have a keen scent for impressionable women, of whom a fellow of that sort has always half-a-dozen in tow. No doubt that is what he came 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."