unknown to the speaker, and who
for that very reason seemed to have the effect of a damper upon his
essentially English temperament.

"Mr Blachland--Mr West," introduced their host.

"What?" almost shouted the last-named. "Blachland, did you say? Not
Hilary! Why--it is! Hilary, my dear old chap, why, this is real good.
By Jove, to think of my running against you here. Where on earth have
you dropped from? Earle, you've heard me talk about this chap. He's my
first cousin." And grabbing hold of the other's hands, he started
wringing them as though that newly found relative were the harmless,
necessary village pump. "Who'd have thought of running against you
here?" went on Percival West volubly. "Why, I thought you were in some
out-of-way place up-country. Well, this is a gaudy surprise!"

"Isn't it? But somebody or other has defined this country as the land
of surprises, Percy. So it's got to keep up its character," said
Blachland, with a queer smile, fully conscious that the irony of the
rejoinder would not be lost upon at any rate one other at the table.

"I say, West. Get on with your grub, old chap," said Earle. "You can
have a yarn on the way. We want to make a start, you know."

"Right you are!" cried Percival, with a jolly laugh, as he slid into the
vacant chair beside Hermia. But even amid his surprise, he did not omit
to give the latter the good morning in an unconscious change of tone,
which in its turn was not lost upon Hilary Blachland; for in it was an
unconscious softening, which with the look which came into the young
fellow's eyes as he turned to the woman beside him, caused those of his
newly found relative to open--figuratively--very wide indeed. For two
considerable surprises had been sprung upon him--enough in all
conscience for one morning, yet here was a third. This young fool was
already soft upon Hermia. As to that there could be no doubt. Here was
a situation with a vengeance, the thinker told himself. How on earth
was it going to pan out? And his anticipations on that head were of no
pleasurable nature.

"I say, West!" cried Bayfield. "That old ram we drove over you the
other day has come to a bad end at last. Blachland's knocked him over."

"Oh, well done, Hilary, old chap. I suppose you've had a great time
with big game, eh? Shocked over no end of lions and elephants, and all
that sort of thing?"

"A few, yes," answered the other, rising, for a signal for a mo