He strolled away to the next stand, where Mr. Mangan was displaying an altogether different standard of proficiency.  The Duchess came up to Dominey a few minutes later.

“I told Henry I shouldn’t stop with him another moment,” she declared.  “He has fired off about forty cartridges and wounded one hare.”

“Henry is not keen,” Dominey remarked, “although I think you are a little hard on him, are you not?  I saw him bring down a nice cock just now.  So far as regards the birds, it really does not matter.  They are all going home.”

The Duchess was very smartly tailored in clothes of brown leather mixture.  She wore thick shoes and gaiters and a small hat.  She was looking very well but a little annoyed.

“I hear,” she said, “that Stephanie is coming to-day.”

Dominey nodded, and seemed for a moment intent on watching the flight of a pigeon which kept tantalisingly out of range.

“She is coming down for a few days,” he assented.  “I am afraid that she will be bored to death.”

“Where did you become so friendly with her?” his cousin asked curiously.

“The first time we ever met,” Dominey replied, “was in the Carlton grill room, a few days after I landed in England.  She mistook me for some one else, and we parted with the usual apologies.  I met her the same night at Carlton House Terrace—­she is related to the Terniloffs—­and we came across one another pretty often after that, during the short time I was in town.”

“Yes,” the Duchess murmured meditatively.  “That is another of the little surprises you seem to have all ready dished up for us.  How on earth did you become so friendly with the German Ambassador?”

Dominey smiled tolerantly.

“Really,” he replied, “there is not anything so very extraordinary about it, is there?  Mr. Seaman, my partner in one or two mining enterprises, took me to call upon him.  He is very interested in East Africa, politically and as a sportsman.  Our conversations seemed to interest him and led to a certain intimacy—­of which I may say that I am proud.  I have the greatest respect and liking for the Prince.”

“So have I,” Caroline agreed.  “I think he’s charming.  Henry declares that he must be either a fool or a knave.”

“Henry is blinded by prejudice,” Dominey declared a little impatiently.  “He cannot imagine a German who feasts with any one else but the devil.”

“Don’t get annoyed, dear,” she begged, resting her fingers for a moment upon his coat sleeve.  “I admire the Prince immensely.  He is absolutely the only German I ever met whom one felt instinctively to be a gentleman.—­Now what are you smiling at?”

Dominey turned a perfectly serious face towards her.  “Not guilty,” he pleaded.

“I saw you smile.”

“It was just a quaint thought.  You are rather sweeping, are you not, Caroline?”

“I’m generally right,” she declared.—­“To return to the subject of Stephanie.”