That little rencontre took my nerve away, and I shot very badly at the next plantation, so badly—I missed two birds—that I was almost inclined to give up and go home; but then lunch came—in a marquee—and its luxury and the delightful wine restored me. I shot well again all the afternoon.

Yes, it was a glorious day, and I enjoyed it immensely when I got Saumarez—or His Serene Highness—out of my mind. He was a superb shot, I will say that of him; he fired from the left shoulder as many men do, but in his case I knew it was on account of his glass eye.

Walking to the last plantation with one of the Household and casually discussing all manner of ordinary subjects, I ventured a chance remark concerning the Duke of Rittersheim.

"His Serene Highness is a fine shot," I said, "an old sportsman, it is easy to see."

"Yes," answered my companion, "he is supposed to be one of the finest shots in Germany."

"And yet he has a glass eye?" I ventured.

The man I was walking with turned round and stared at me.

"Now, how in the name of goodness did you know that?" he inquired. "It is supposed to be a secret, and the artificial eye looks so natural under his pince-nez that very few know of its existence."

"But you are quite right," he continued; "he lost it in a shooting accident when he was a boy."

This made the matter quite certain in my mind, and I determined to confront His Serene Highness at the first opportunity and see what effect it would have upon him; but I might have saved myself the trouble of this resolution; subsequent event proved pretty conclusively that he had recognised me from the first.

We were all arranged for the final shoot of the day, when to my astonishment I found myself next to the Duke of Rittersheim. He was on my right hand, and therefore had me well under his sound left eye.

I must admit that I felt uneasy when I saw him there; nevertheless, I went on shooting coolly and had the pleasure once or twice of "wiping his eye." I even heard a distinct "Bravo" come from him at one of my shots.

I was, however, far from comfortable in having him for such a close neighbour under the circumstances, and wished him a hundred miles away. We shot on until the light got very bad, but there were only a few more yards to be driven, so we went on. We had nearly finished when I noticed the Duke of Rittersheim send his loader away to pick up something he had dropped.

I noted the man run off to fulfil the request, and at the same moment my eyes were attracted by the last rays of the red sun, already set, reddening far away the waters of Lynn Deeps.

It was a lovely sight, and my gaze rested on it some moments; then I suddenly realised that I was practically alone with the Bavarian Duke, as my loader had walked on a few yards with his back to me.

The Duke was standing quite alone, and in that moment I saw his gun go up to his shoulder at a bird, then in a flash it turned towards me!

I realised my danger in a moment and threw myself flat on my face. As I lay there I heard the report of his gun, the swish of the charge, and a cry from my loader. He had shot him!

I sprang to my feet, and ran to the man, who was standing holding his arm; but quick as I was the Duke was there before me.

"Are you hurt, my man?" he asked in his sharp tone which I knew so well. "Where are you hit?"

"It's in the arm, sir," the Norfolk man answered; "it be set fast."

"Look here," said the Duke, quickly taking out a note case. "I can see you are not badly hurt. Take these bank-notes; here are twenty pounds. Go quietly away and say nothing about it and I'll give you another twenty. Do you understand?"

"Yes, me lord," answered the man, who probably had never had so much money before in his life. "I'll keep mum."

"Can you walk all right?" asked the Duke.

"Yes, Your Royal Highness," answered the poor fellow, who was getting mixed, feeling, no doubt, very faint.

"Then off with you at once," cried the Duke, "and send some one up in the morning to the Duke of Rittersheim for the other twenty pounds. Tell the people," he added, as the man went slowly off, "that you have had a bad fall."

"Yes, Your Majesty," answered the bewildered, wounded man as he disappeared in the dusk.

I stood watching the Duke as he went coolly back without a word to me to his place; this, then, was the cool, resourceful scoundrel I had to deal with!

* * * * *

Sitting by the big fire in the smoking-room at Bannington Hall that night after dinner, I told St. Nivel the whole of the incident of the shooting of the beater by the Duke of Rittersheim.

"Well, that's the limit," commented Jack, taking the cigar out of his mouth; "he must be a cool-headed scoundrel. I never heard of such nerve!"

"It's a nice thing to have a brute like that on one's track, isn't it?"
I remarked dejectedly; "it makes life hardly worth living."

Jack sat and smoked placidly for some moments looking into the fire.
He was thinking.

Presently he turned to me.

"Look here, Bill," he remarked, "Ethel and I had a talk this evening before dinner about matters generally and she has started what I call a very good idea."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Of course, she knows all about your promise to the old lady; you told her, you know."

"Certainly," I answered, "I told you both. I know you never keep secrets from one another."

"Well, she knows," he proceeded, "therefore, that you have made up your mind to go to Valoro with that packet the old lady gave you."

"Well?"

Jack brought his hand down with a smack on my knee.

"Let us come too, old chap," he cried—"both of us—Ethel and I."

The idea to me was both pleasant and astonishing. I had never thought of it.

"But won't Ethel find it rather a fatiguing journey?" I suggested.

He was quite amused at the idea.

"I can assure you," he said, "that she can stand pretty nearly as much as I can. She's a regular little amazon. That's what Ethel is."

"Very well, then," I replied, "nothing will suit me better than to have yours and Ethel's charming society. As a matter of fact I am beginning to look forward to the expedition keenly."

The next few days were given up to wild speculations on our coming journey and its results.

"I hear the country is lovely," exclaimed Ethel, poring over a map; "at any rate the voyage will be splendid!"

It was settled that we should start from Liverpool to Monte Video, thence make our way by rail across country to our destination, Valoro, a beautiful city in the mountains of Aquazilia, in the neighbourhood of which we were told we should get splendid sport.

Therefore we made a flying trip to town, especially to visit Purdey's and supply ourselves with the very latest things in sporting guns and rifles.

Out of the very liberal provision the old lady had made for my expenses, I felt justified in being extravagant, and provided myself with a beautiful gun—the right barrel having a shallow rifling for a bullet should we meet with very big game—and a perfect gem of an express rifle; these two were the latest models in sporting firearms.

Ethel and St. Nivel, having an unlimited command of money, ordered pretty nearly everything they were advised to take, with the result that we required a small pantechnicon van to take our combined luggage.

There was, however, one thing I was very particular about, and upon which I took the advice of an old friend who had travelled much.

I bought a first-rate Target revolver—a Colt—with which I knew I could make accurate shooting. I would not trust my life to one of those unscientific productions which are just as likely to shoot a friend as an enemy, and are more in the nature of pop-guns than defensive weapons. I had reason to congratulate myself later on that I had taken such a precaution.

"There's one thing you really must see to at once, Bill," exclaimed St.
Nivel, one day when we were all busy making out lists of our
requirements in the great library and posting them off to the stores.
"You must get a servant."

Now I had been, for the last three months, doing for myself; my old servant had left me some months before and I had not filled his place with another. Times, too, had not been very prosperous with me and I seriously thought of curtailing that luxury and brushing my own clothes.

The liberal allowance for my travelling expenses, however, plus the thousand pound note, put quite a different complexion on matters. I felt now thoroughly justified in providing myself with a first-rate man, and for that purpose I took my cousin's advice and put an advertisement in the Morning Post.

"A gentleman requires a good valet, used to travelling. Excellent reference required." I gave my name and St. Nivel's address to ensure getting a good one.

That was the wording of it, and I arranged to run up to town for a day to make my selection from them. From the numerous applicants I selected six, and told them to meet me at Long's Hotel.

St. Nivel accompanied me to give me the benefit of his advice, which was perhaps not likely to be of much service to me. He employed a refined person himself who asked and got £150 a year.

The man who took my fancy was an old cavalry soldier named Brooks who had been out of work for a time, but who yet bore the stamp of a man who knew his work and would do it. I closed with him for a modest £70 a year, and he was glad to get it.

"When will you be ready to come, Brooks?" I asked when we had settled preliminaries. "We shall be off by the next boat to La Plata, and I shall want you to get on with the packing as soon as you can."

"For the matter of that, sir," he answered, "I could come now. I've no chick nor child to hold me. I'm a widower without encumbrances."

I told the "widower without encumbrances" to come the next day, and St. Nivel and I jumped into a hansom to catch the five o'clock express, glad to get out of the thick atmosphere of London into the bright crisp air of Norfolk.

"I think you've done right," remarked St. Nivel in the train, "in getting an old cavalry man. He'll understand hunting things."

As I could not afford to hunt I missed the point of the signification.

Ah, those were happy days, those last few before we started!

All our serious preparations were finished and we had only to give a little general supervision to the packing of our respective servants. Ethel's experienced maid was going with her, of course.

This done, we used to stroll about together—the three of us—and enjoy the last few hours of the dear old place as much as we could in the beautiful bright weather.

I think Ethel and I even used to get a little bit romantic in the lovely moonlight nights, when the old oak-panelled corridors and staircases were bathed in the soft light. But we were very far from being in love with one another all the same.

I shall never forget that time of peace, which came in a period of storm and trial; the old red mansion with the river running not a hundred yards from it, and the graceful swans sailing to and fro, the glorious old trees of the avenue, the fine broad terrace with its splendid views over the low, undulating country, with a glimpse of Lynn Deeps on one hand and the white towers of St. Margaret's, the great church in the ancient town, on the other.

The dreamy, old-world air of the place, the smell even of the fresh-turned earth in the great gardens, the cawing of the circling rooks—it all comes back to me as if I had but walked out of it all an hour ago.

However, the morning soon came when we were to bid adieu to it all, and in the hurry and scurry of it and the race down to the station in the motor—for we were late, Ethel's maid having forgotten an important hat—perhaps we forgot all our peaceful happiness in our feverish speculations on our voyage across the Atlantic to that distant South American Republic, Aquazilia, and its mountain capital, Valoro.