“I really don’t know much about it,” he answered, “I was only there one night.”

“Good day’s sport?”

“Very good indeed,” Brooks answered.  “Lord Arranmore is a wonderful shot.”

“A remarkable man in a great many ways, Lord Arranmore,” Dr. Seventon remarked.  “He disappeared from London when he was an impecunious young barrister with apparently no earthly chance of succeeding to the Arranmore estates, and from that time till a few years ago, when he was advertised for, not a soul knew his whereabouts.  Even now I am told that he keeps the story of all these years absolutely to himself.  No one knew where he was, or how he supported himself.”

“I can tell you where he was for some time, at any rate,” Brooks said.  “He was in Canada, for he met my father there, and was with him when he died.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Seventon remarked.  “Then I should say that you are one of the only men in England to whom he has opened his lips on the subject.  Do you know what he was doing there?”

“Fishing and shooting, I think.”  Brooks answered.  “It was near Lake Ono, right out west, and there would be nothing else to take one there.”

“It was always supposed too that he had spent most of the time in a situation in New York,” Mr. Huntingdon said.

“I know a man,” Mr. Seaton put in, “who can swear that he met him as a sergeant in the first Australian contingent of mounted infantry sent to the Cape.”

“There are no end of stories about him,” Dr. Seventon remarked.  “If I were the man I would put a stop to them by telling everybody exactly where I was during those twenty years or so.  It is a big slice of one’s life to seal up.”

“Still, there is not the slightest reason why he should take the whole world into his confidence, is there?” Brooks expostulated.  “He is not a public man.”

“A peer of England with a seat in the House of Lords must always be a public man to some extent,” Mr. Huntingdon remarked.

“I am not sure,” Brooks remarked, “that the lives of all our hereditary legislators would bear the most searching inquiry.”

“That’s right, Brooks,” Mr. Bullsom declared.  “Stick up for your pals.”

Brooks looked a little annoyed.

“The only claim I have upon Lord Arranmore’s acquaintance,” he remarked, “is his kindness to my father.  I hope, Dr. Seventon, that you are going to press the matter of that fever hospital home.  I have a little information which I think you might make use of.”

Brooks changed his place, wine-glass in hand, and the conversation drifted away.  But he found the position of social star one which the Bullsoms were determined to force upon him, for they had no sooner entered the drawing-room than Selina came rushing across the room to him and drew him confidentially on one side.

“Mr. Brooks,” she said, “do go and talk to Mrs. Huntingdon.  She is so anxious to hear about the Lady Caroom who is staying at Enton.”