Jeremy rose in the new-found strength of his purpose, and gathering up the slain—there were only three—whistled to his retriever, and made his way back to Dum’s Ness.
He found Mr. Cardus and Dorothy by the fire in the sitting-room. Hard-riding Atterleigh was there too, in his place in the ingle-nook, a riding-whip in his ink-stained hand, with which he was tapping his top-boot. They turned as he entered, except his grandfather, who did not hear him.
“What sport have you had, Jeremy?” asked his sister, with a sad little smile. Her face had grown very sad of late.
“Three ducks,” he answered shortly, advancing his powerful form out of the shadows into the firelight. “I came home just as they were beginning to fly.”
“You found it cold, I suppose?” said Mr. Cardus, absently. They had been t
