Hamil glanced restlessly at the forest where his work lay.  And he needed it now.  But he said pleasantly, “I’ll go if you say so.”

“Of course I say so,” exclaimed Cardross heartily.  “Gray, does Louis Malcourt still wish to go?”

“He spoke of it last week.”

“Well, if he hasn’t changed his rather volatile mind telephone for Adams, We’ll require a guide apiece.  And he can have that buckskin horse; and tell him to pick out his own gun.”  And to Hamil, cordially:  “Shiela and Louis and Gray will probably wander about together and you and I will do the real shooting.  But Shiela is a shot—­if she chooses.  Gray would rather capture a scarce jungle butterfly.  Hello, here’s Louis now!  Are you glad we’re going at last?”

“Very,” replied Hamil as Malcourt strolled up and airily signified his intention of making one of the party.  But as soon as he learned that they might remain away three days or more he laughingly demurred.

The four men lingered for a few minutes in the hall discussing guns, dogs, and guides; then Hamil mounted the stairs, and Malcourt went with him, talking all the while in that easy, fluent, amusing manner which, if he chose, could be as agreeably graceful as every attitude and movement of his lithe body.  His voice, too, had that engagingly caressing quality characteristic of him when in good-humour; he really had little to say to Hamil, but being on such excellent terms with himself he said a great deal about nothing in particular; and as he persistently lingered by Hamil’s door the latter invited him in.

There Malcourt lit a cigarette, seated lazily astride a chair, arms folded across the back, aimlessly humourous in recounting his adventures at the Ascott function, while Hamil stood with his back to the darkening window, twisting his unlighted cigarette into minute shreds and waiting for him to go.

“Rather jolly to meet Miss Suydam again,” observed Malcourt.  “We were great friends at Portlaw’s camp together two years ago.  I believe that you and Miss Suydam are cousins after a fashion.”

“After a fashion, I believe.”

“She’s tremendously attractive, Hamil.”

“What?  Oh, yes, very.”

“Evidently no sentiment lost between you,” laughed the other.

“No, of course not; no sentiment.”

Malcourt said carelessly:  “I’m riding with Miss Suydam to-morrow.  That’s one reason I’m not going on this duck-hunt.”

Hamil nodded.

“Another reason,” he continued, intent on the glowing end of his cigarette, “is that I’m rather fortunate at the Club just now—­and I don’t care to disturb any run of luck that seems inclined to drift my way.  Would you give your luck the double cross?”

“I suppose not,” said Hamil vaguely—­“if I ever had any.”

“That’s the way I feel.  And it’s all kinds of luck that’s chasing me. All kinds, Hamil.  One kind, for example, wears hair that matches my cuff-links.  Odd, isn’t it?” he added, examining the golden links with a smile.