her to feel faint. I shall have ready a bottle of smelling salts.
I need not go into details ... drugs ... loss of will power ... you
see...."

The blood boiling in Ralph's ears prevented him from hearing more. Only
the sight of the two murderous-looking revolvers on the table and the
knowledge that he could not afford to take risks at this juncture
stopped him from tearing open the shutters and dashing into the room.

Sir Ernest rose to his feet and simultaneously Ralph slid down the
creeper and regained _terra firma_. His mind was working rapidly.

* * *

The meet of the Chingerley Hunt made a gay spectacle. The red coats of
the men and the fascinating Parisian _toilettes_ of the ladies shone
resplendently in the morning sunshine, while the champing of the horses'
bits blended harmoniously with the choiring of numberless larks. Through
the brilliant throng moved the Master, Sir Ernest Scrivener, bowing his
greetings right and left as he passed.

A few minutes before the hour fixed for the start the approach of a
solitary horseman caused many eyebrows to lift in surprise, while Sir
Ernest for an instant went white to the teeth. Then he laughed
scornfully.

"Why, Wonderson!" cried one of the Hunt. "What on earth are you doing
here? I understood you were being married this morning."

"That is so," replied Ralph easily. "But I see no reason why I shouldn't
hunt first. DRAKE, you know, played bowls during a crisis, and NERO
fiddled."

As he spoke he watched Sir Ernest narrowly. The Master was making his
way towards the iron cage in which the fox cub was imprisoned. Ralph
edged his horse insensibly nearer.

Amid the eager plaudits of the Hunt Sir Ernest leaned down from his
saddle and raised the catch with a flourish. As he did so a packet of
papers fell from his breast pocket.

In a flash the released cub had pounced upon the papers and carried them
off in his mouth. With a savage oath Sir Ernest plunged his spurs into
his horse's flanks and gave chase. Ralph, perceiving instantly what had
happened and guessing the all-important nature of the papers, was by him
in a stride. Side by side the pair thundered along, while behind them
the hounds and hunters streamed out in a confused and glittering medley.
They were off! The hunt was up.

Crouching low on the necks of their panting steeds, the two protagonists
swept forward, plying remorselessly whip and spur, curb and snaffle. For
a time neither gained an