"Mr George Shenstone?" queries Captain Ryecroft, reading from the card.
"George Shenstone!" he repeats with a look of blank astonishment--"What
the deuce does it mean?"
"Does what mean?" asks the Major, catching the other's surprise.
"Why, this gentleman being here. You see that?" He tosses the card
across the table.
"Well; what of it?"
"Read the name!"
"Mr George Shenstone. Don't know the man. Haven't the most distant
idea who he is. Have you?"
"O, yes."
"Old acquaintance; friend, I presume? No enemy, I hope?"
"If it be the son of a Sir George Shenstone, of Herefordshire, I can't
call him either friend or enemy; and as I know nobody else of the name,
I suppose it must be he. If so, what he wants with me is a question I
can no more answer than the man in the moon. I must get the answer from
himself. Can I take the liberty of asking him into your house, Mahon?"
"Certainly, my dear boy! Bring him in here, if you like, and let him
join us."
"Thanks, Major!" interrupts Ryecroft. "But no, I'd prefer first having
a word with him alone. Instead of drinking, he may want fighting with
me."
"O ho!" ejaculates the Major. "Murtagh!" to the servant, an old soldier
of the 18th, "show the gentleman into the drawing-room."
"Mr Shenstone and I," proceeds Ryecroft in explanation, "have but the
very slightest acquaintance. I've only met him a few times in general
company, the last at a ball--a private one--just three nights ago.
'Twas that very morning I met the priest, I supposed we'd seen up there.
'Twould seem as if everybody on the Wyeside had taken the fancy to
follow me into France."
"Ha--ha--ha! About the _pretre_, no doubt you're mistaken. And maybe
this isn't your man, either. The same name, you're sure!"
"Quite. The Herefordshire baronet's son is George, as his father, to
whose title he is heir. I never heard of his having any other--"
"Stay!" interrupts the Major, again glancing at the card, "here's
something to help identification--an address--_Ormeston Hall_."
"Ah! I didn't observe that." In his agitation he had not, the address
being in small script at the corner. "Ormeston Hall? Yes, I remember,
Sir George's residence is so called. Of course it's the son--must be."
"But why do you think he means fight? Something happened between you,
eh?"
"No; nothing between us, directly."
"Ah! Indirectly, then? Of course the old trouble--a woman."
"Well; if it be fighting the fellow's after, I suppose it must be about
that," slowly rejoins Ryecroft, half in soliloquy and pondering over
what took place on the night of the ball. Now vividly recalling that
scene in the summer-house, with the angry words there spoken, he feels
good as certain George Shenstone has come after him on the part of Miss
Wynn.
The thought of such championship stirs his indignation, and he
exclaims--
"By Heavens! he shall have what he wants. But I mustn't keep him
waiting. Give me that card, Major!"