"Don't let me disturb any one," he begged, finding a convenient corner for his gun and relapsing into the easy-chair which had been discreetly vacated by Mr. Craske. "I'll take a warming drink, if you please, Mr. Pank. A wineglassful of sloe gin, if you have it, and if any of you gentlemen will join me, I shall be proud. I forgot my flask this morning."
"You've been out along with Mr. Gregory, sir?" Rawson enquired.
"We've been after snipe on the mere side. Good sport, but chilly. I've shot snipe in China before now, but they don't seem in such a hurry as these Norfolk devils. Mr. Gregory wiped my eyes more than once."
"Mr. Gregory's a fine shot at what I may call the irregular birds," the butler ventured, "snipe and woodcock and suchlike. You'll pardon me saying so though, sir, I'd rather see you at the pheasants. I've noticed the last twice that the Squire's put you at the awkward corners."
"Well, well," Mr. Johnson admitted, "it's a great life, this, if I could only learn to stick on a horse. Mr. Foulds, you'll have to keep your eye open for another one up to my weight. I had to miss a day's hunting last week."
"I'll do that with pleasure, sir," the veterinary promised. "There's a sale at Norwich next week. I'll be over yonder, surely."
Mr. Johnson drank his sloe gin and held out the glass for replenishment.
"Good warming stuff," he pronounced. "By-the-by, you may all like to know that I heard from the Squire this morning. They found the villa at Cannes in great shape, and her ladyship has walked a mile every day since they've been there."
"It do seem wonderful!" the innkeeper declared.
"A most amazing recovery," Mr. Craske echoed. "To see her lying on that chair month after month, no one would ever dream that she'd end her days marrying and walking about like any one else. There's been a-many changes in these parts, Mr. Johnson, sir, since you've come."
"One did feel six months ago," the grocer continued, "as though some sort of cloud were hanging over the village, what with the poor gentleman as we thought had been murdered, and the police acting so suspicious-like round the place, and all the time talk about the Hall and the Ballaston lands coming under the hammer, and you, Mr. Johnson, not half the cheerful gentleman you are now, looking so solemn as though you had something on your mind all the time, if one might make so free."