and thoughts of Millicent Chyne in his mind.
The astute have no doubt discovered ere this that the mind of Mr. Guy
Oscard was a piece of mental mechanism more noticeable for solidity of
structure than brilliancy or rapidity of execution. Thoughts and ideas
and principles had a strange way of getting mixed up with the machinery,
and sticking there. Guy Oscard had, for instance, concluded some years
before that the Winchester rifle was, as he termed it, "no go"; and if
the Pope of Rome and the patentee of the firearm in question had crossed
Europe upon their bended knees to persuade him to use a Winchester
rifle, he would have received them with a pleasant smile and an offer
of refreshment. He would have listened to their arguments with that
patience of manner which characterises men of large stature, and for
the rest of his days he would have continued to follow big game with
an "Express" double-barrelled rifle as heretofore. Men who decide such
small matters as these for themselves, after mature and somewhat slow
consideration, have a way of also deciding the large issues of life
without pausing to consider either expediency or the experience of their
neighbours.

During the last forty-eight hours Guy Oscard had made the decision that
life without Millicent Chyne would not be worth having, and in the
hush of the great house he was pondering over this new feature in his
existence. Like all deliberate men, he was placidly sanguine. Something
in the life of savage sport that he had led had no doubt taught him to
rely upon his own nerve and capacity more than do most men. It is the
indoor atmosphere that contains the germ of pessimism.

His thoughts cannot have been disturbing, for presently his eyes closed
and he appeared to be slumbering. If it was sleep, it was the light
unconsciousness of the traveller; for a sound so small, that waking ears
could scarce have heard it, caused him to lift his lashes cautiously. It
was the sound of bare feet on carpet.

Through his lashes Guy Oscard saw his father standing on the hearthrug
within two yards of him. There was something strange, something
unnatural and disturbing, about the movements of the man that made Guy
keep quite still--watching him.

Upon the mantelpiece the medicine bottles were arranged in a row, and
the "eccentric Oscard" was studying the labels with a feverish haste.
One bottle--a blue one--bore two labels: the smaller, of brilliant
orange colour, with the wo