of the house-party and the keenest wheresports or games were concerned.
Stanchester liked him because he was so perfectly honest and straight.The very look in his clear steel-grey eyes spoke truth, uprightness anda healthy life, and after their first meeting, one season at Cowes, hislordship had taken a great fancy to him.
"Anybody else I'm likely to know?" asked the visitor, with acarelessness which I knew was assumed.
"Well, there's the Marchese Visconti, of the Italian Embassy, young HughHibbert from Oxford, and `Poppa,' as they call the newly-made LordCawnpore. And the honourable Lucy Whitwell, the daughter of LadyDrayton."
"Is she here also?" he exclaimed, looking at me in quick surprise, whichhe did not attempt to disguise. "She's with her mother, of course?"
I responded in the affirmative, and recognised by his manner that thepresence of the lady in question somewhat nonplussed him. Possibly shemight be acquainted with him as Richard Keene, seafarer, and heanticipated an awkwardness about his introduction as the celebratedbig-game hunter.
I anticipated a scene when the Countess met him, and was inwardly gladthat at least Lolita was absent.
Ought I to warn the Countess, I wondered? She had, I remembered,appealed to me to assist her, and surely in this I might. Nevertheless,if her husband were in ignorance of the man's real identity, it was notlikely that he would expose it willingly, or seek to injure herladyship, or make any demonstration before her guests. On the one hand,I felt it my duty to give her warning of the stranger's arrival, whileon the other I feared that by doing so I might be defeating the endswhich the man Keene might have in view, namely, the discovery of thereal author of the crime in Sibberton Park.
Thus I remained, undecided, continuing to chat with him, watching hisattitude carefully, and seeking to learn from his conversation somethingregarding his intentions.
"I should imagine Lord Stanchester to be a very lucky fellow," heremarked presently. "If the photographs one sees in the papers are anycriterion, her ladyship must be a very beautiful woman."
"Yes," I answered, smiling. He was very cleverly trying to impress uponme the fact that they had never met. His shrewd cunning showed itselfin the sidelong glance he gave me.
At that moment the door suddenly opened, and Lord Stanchester, in hisrough shooting kit, came in.
"Halloa, Smeeton! Welcome, my dear fellow!" he cried, wringing hisguest's hands. "Excuse my being away, won't you? I've got a lot ofpeople here, you know, and had to go out with them. By Jove! When yousaid good-bye to me and left the boat at Zanzibar, I never expected tosee you again?"
"Well, here I am--turned up in England again, you see!" he repliedmerrily. "When we parted I had no intention of coming back. Butsomehow, on occasions, a longing for home comes over me, and I'm drawnback to London irresistibly. I see," he added, "some of the trophiesare up in the hall."
"Yes," laughed his lordship. "I had them all mounted. And often when Ilook at them, they bring back pleasant recollections of those many weekswe were together. Well," he added, "I'm very pleased, Smeeton, to seeyou here at Sibberton--very. My wife knows you're here; she'll bedelighted to meet you. I'm sure. I've often spoken of you, and toldher how you saved me from that lioness. By Jove! I was within an aceof being done--and should have been if you hadn't been such a deadshot."
"Oh, that's enough," laughed the guest, modestly. "I can't shootpartridges--that you'll see."
The Earl walked to the mantelshelf, took a cigarette, and lit it,saying--
"I see Woodhouse has been making you at home. This is WilloughbyWoodhouse, my friend as well as my secretary," he exclaimed. "I spokeof him, I believe."
"You did, on several occasions," and turning, Smeeton added, "I'mdelighted to make your acquaintance, Mr Woodhouse. His lordship saidall sorts of kind things about you."
But I scarcely heeded the newcomer's remarks. I was wondering whatwould occur when he met her ladyship face to face.
"I want you to have a good time, my dear fellow," exclaimed the Earl tohis guest. "Just make yourself at home. You'll find the house a bigbarrack of a place, too big in fact--but with the aid of the servantsyou'll very soon discover the proper trails. If you don't, just go intothe nearest room, ring the bell and wait. That's what most people do.My wife was fully six months before she could find her way aboutproperly--it's a fact! She wanted to shut up the place and live in thenew wing. But," he added, "the old guv'nor always kept it up properly,and I feel it my duty to do just as he did."
That a cordial friendship existed between the pair was plain, and yet Ihad only once heard his lordship mention him, and that was in thesmoking-room when daring feats of big-game hunting and the achievementsof Selous and others were being discussed. Then he had declared that heknew a man that held his own with them all--a man named Smeeton, who hadspent the greater part of his life exploring and hunting, some of whosetrophies, sold to well-known dealers, were the finest in the world.
His lordship was never a boastful man, and had not referred at all tohis acquaintance with this renowned hunter, nor to his own Africanexploits, which were in no way a mean achievement.
He had just ordered Slater to bring in whiskies-and-sodas, as it was hishabit to have a "peg" before dressing, when there sounded out in thecorridor a light quick footstep, and the scamper of a dog, and the nextinstant the door opened, and the Countess of Stanchester halted on thethreshold, facing the man she held in such deadly fear--Richard Keene!
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
FACE TO FACE.
"My friend Smeeton--Lady Stanchester," exclaimed the Earl, introducingthem.
Their gaze met, and I saw that in a moment her heart became gripped by anameless terror, her countenance blanched, and she halted rigid, asutterly dumbfounded as I had been; while the mysterious guest bowed,expressing his pleasure at making her acquaintance, and thus allowingher a chance to recover her self-possession.
I saw that he had darted a meaning look at her--a glance which sheapparently understood, for next second she held her breath, stiflingdown her apprehension, and then managed to stammer out the usualexpression of gratification at meeting any of her husband's friends.
"We have only a moment ago, Lady Stanchester, been recalling memories ofour days on the Zambesi. We were both, I think, a little more recklessthen than we are now," he said laughing.
"You're right, Smeeton," declared the Earl. "Playing the fool as I did,I narrowly escaped with my life half-a-dozen times over. But I'veprofited by your advice and experience."
"George is quite a steady-going old fogey nowadays, you must know, MrSmeeton," exclaimed her ladyship. "He's a member of all sorts ofcommittees for this and for that, and sits on the bench of magistrateswith the row of fat butchers and bakers."
"And is pretty hard on poachers, I suppose?" he laughed. "In the eyesof county magistrates the snaring of a hare is, I've heard, regarded asone of the worst crimes in the calendar."
"Of course. Because it is generally the only crime that personallyconcerns the bench," remarked his lordship, while his wife had crossedto the fireplace and stood slightly behind her husband, in order, Inoticed, to conceal the agitation now consuming her. Why had the mancome there in the guise of her husband's friend? That they had shottogether in Africa was certain, for she had heard of this man's prowessas a big-game hunter, but it was a revelation to her, as to me, thatSmeeton and Richard Keene were one and the same person.
Old Slater returned with the "pegs" and the men drank them while herladyship busied herself pretending to try and find a book in the largebookcase behind me. She chatted to them all the time, but managed tokeep her face concealed.
At last the dressing-bell sounded, and the Earl accompanied his guest tohis room, exclaiming with a laugh--
"I'd better show you the way, old chap, or you'll be wandering aboutlike one of the lost tribes." Then, the instant the door had closed andtheir footsteps retreated, the Countess turned quickly to me, her facewhite and drawn, her eyes te
rrified, whispering--
"What does this mean, Mr Woodhouse? What can it mean?"
"Well, it seems as though the fellow had some object in coming to stayhere as a guest," I said. "What that object is you yourself know best."
"Of course he has a motive," she cried in despair. "But what am I todo? Why didn't you warn me that you had recognised him?"
I explained briefly how to warn her had been impossible.
"Do you think George noticed my confusion when I opened the door and sawhim here?" she asked anxiously.
"I think not,"