hot, unmistakable alike
for that of shot-gun or revolver, circled the belt of hills that looks
on Ancester Towers, and died at Grantley Thorpe. Old Stephen, when he
reappeared at the Lodge half an hour later, could explain his share in
this with only a mixed satisfaction. For though his need of his
rifle--whether real or not--had justified its readiness for use, he had
failed as a marksman; the stray dog he fired at, after vanishing in a
copse for a few minutes, having scoured away in a long detour; as he
judged, making for the Castle.

"And a rare good hap for thee, husband!" said the old woman when she
heard this. "Whatever has gotten thy wits, ma'an, to win out and draa'
trigger on a pet tyke of some visitor lady at the Too'ers?"

"Will ye be tellun me this, and tellun me that, Keziah? I tell 'ee one
thing, wench, it be no consarn o' mine whose dog be run loose in th'
Park. Be they the Queen's own, my orders say shoot un! Do'ant thee know
next month be August?" Nevertheless, the old man was not altogether
sorry that he had missed. He might have been called over the coals for
killing a dog-visitor to the Towers. He chose to affect regret for
discipline's sake, and alleged that the dog had escaped into the wood
only because he had no second cartridge. This was absurd. In these days
of quick-shooters it might have been otherwise. In those, the only
abominations of the sort were Colonel Colt's revolvers; and _they_ were
a great novelty, opening up a new era in murder.

The truth was that this view of the culprit's identity had dawned on him
as soon as he got a second view of the dog visibly making for the
Castle--almost too far in any case for a shot at anything smaller than a
doe--and he would probably have held his hand for both reasons even if a
reload had been possible.

* * * * *

Lady Gwendolen, treasuring in her heart a tale of adventure--however
trivial--to tell at the dinner-table in the evening, submitted herself
to be prepared for that function. She seemed absent in mind; and
Lutwyche her maid, observing this, skipped intermediate reasonings and
straightway hoped that the cause of this absence of mind had come over
with the Conqueror and had sixty thousand a year. Meanwhile she wanted
to know which dress, my lady, this evening?--and got no answer. Her
ladyship was listening to something at a distance; or, rather, having
heard something at a distance, was listening for a repe