irs--advanced
toward him and prefaced his message by the invariable salutation. "His
Lordship will be down, sir, in ten minutes--and he hopes you'll be
ready, sir," the valet said.

"Send Pangbourn to this gentleman's room," Miss Winnie bade him, and
with a gesture of comprehensive submission he went away.

The calm readiness with which she had provided a solution for his
difficulties impressed Thorpe greatly. It would never have occurred to
him that Pangbourn was the answer to the problem of his clothes, yet how
obvious it had been to her. These old families did something more than
fill their houses with servants; they mastered the art of making these
servants an integral part of the machinery of existence. Fancy having a
man to do all your thinking about clothes for you, and then dress you,
into the bargain. Oh, it was all splendid.

"It seems that we're going shooting," Thorpe found himself explaining, a
few moments later in his bedroom, to the attentive Pangbourn. He
decided to throw himself with frankness upon the domestic's resourceful
good-feeling. "I haven't brought anything for shooting at all. Somehow I
got the idea we were going to do rough riding instead--and so I fetched
along some old Mexican riding-clothes that make me feel more at home
in the saddle than anything else would. You know how fond a man gets of
old, loose things like that. But about this shooting--I want you to fix
me out. What do I need? Just some breeches and leggings, eh? You can
manage them for me, can't you?"

Pangbourn could and did--and it was upon his advice that the Mexican
jacket was utilized to complete the out-fit. Its shape was beyond doubt
uncommon, but it had big pockets, and it looked like business. Thorpe,
as he glanced up and down his image in the tall mirror of the wardrobe,
felt that he must kill a large number of birds to justify the effect of
pitiless proficiency which this jacket lent to his appearance.

"We will find a cap below, sir," Pangbourn announced, with serenity, and
Thorpe, who had been tentatively fingering the big, flaring sombrero,
thrust it back upon its peg as if it had proved too hot to handle.

Downstairs in the hall there was more waiting to be done, and there was
nobody now to bear him company. He lit another cigar, tried on various
caps till he found a leathern one to suit him, and then dawdled about
the room and the adjoining conservatory for what seemed to him more than
half an hour. This pha