My curiosity being excited as to what was to be an almost professional matter, I walked towards the grove, making a circuit through a shrubbery.  At length I found myself near to the edge of a glade, and perceived, standing behind the shelter of a magnificent ilex, two men.  One of these was a young keeper, and the other, from his appearance, I felt sure must be Lord Ragnall himself.  Certainly he was a splendid-looking man, very tall, very broad, very handsome, with a peaked beard, a kind and charming face, and large dark eyes.  He wore a cloak upon his shoulders, which was thrown back from over a velvet coat, and, except for the light double-barrelled rifle in his hand, looked exactly like a picture by Van Dyck which Mr. Savage had just informed me was that of one of his lordship’s ancestors of the time of Charles I.

Standing behind another oak, I observed that he was trying to shoot wood-pigeons as they descended to feed upon the acorns, for which the hard weather had made them greedy.  From time to time these beautiful blue birds appeared and hovered a moment before they settled, whereon the sportsman fired and—­they flew away. Bang!  Bang! went the double-barrelled rifle, and off fled the pigeon.

“Damn!” said the sportsman in a pleasant, laughing voice; “that’s the twelfth I have missed, Charles.”

“You hit his tail, my lord.  I saw a feather come out.  But, my lord, as I told you, there ain’t no man living what can kill pigeons on the wing with a bullet, even when they seem to sit still in the air.”

“I have heard of one, Charles.  Mr. Scroope has a friend from Africa staying with him who, he swears, could knock over four out of six.”

“Then, my lord, Mr. Scroope has a friend what lies,” replied Charles as he handed him the second rifle.

This was too much for me.  I stepped forward, raising my hat politely, and said: 

“Sir, forgive me for interrupting you, but you are not shooting at those wood-pigeons in the right way.  Although they seem to hover just before they settle, they are dropping much faster than you think.  Your keeper was mistaken when he said that you knocked a feather out of the tail of that last bird at which you fired two barrels.  In both cases you shot at least a foot above it, and what fell was a leaf from the ilex tree.”

There was a moment’s silence, which was broken by Charles, who ejaculated in a thick voice: 

“Well, of all the cheek!”

Lord Ragnall, however, for it was he, looked first angry and then amused.

“Sir,” he said, “I thank you for your advice, which no doubt is excellent, for it is certainly true that I have missed every pigeon which I tried to shoot with these confounded little rifles.  But if you could demonstrate in practice what you so kindly set out in precept, the value of your counsel would be enhanced.”

Thus he spoke, mimicking, I have no doubt (for he had a sense of humour), the manner of my address, which nervousness had made somewhat pompous.