112 CHASING AND RACING 



" All right, old friend, so long as you keep at a 

 respectful distance.'* 



So we sallied forth. A full moon was shedding 

 her radiance on the bosky gorse which covered the 

 common leading to the kennels. As we passed the 

 gates of the demesne the mournful song of the 

 hounds, paying tribute to their goddess Diana, rose 

 and fell on the fitful breeze. The chorus was answered 

 in counterpoint by the lugubrious hoot of a vagrant 

 owl. It was bitterly cold. The exhilarating effect 

 of Pol Roger, 1889, topped by a liqueur of fine 

 champagne of the Napoleonic era, was beginning to 

 wear off. 



Was I obsessed by funk } I hardly know ; but 

 certainly I was not quite as cock-a-whoop as erstwhile 

 I had been when comfortably ensconced in my favourite 

 armchair before the fire in my smoking-room. 



A similar eerie feeling seemed to have overcome my 

 friends, for there was an ominous silence as we neared 

 the scene of action. 



On arriving we had to knock up Wilson and his 

 satellites in order to inform him of our purpose. He 

 also was loud in his endeavours to dissuade me from 

 my foolhardy escapade. 



** Don*t ye do it, sir. Gawd knows what may 

 happen. Why, I would not take the risk for a mint 

 of gold or the pick of the stable. That old Landsman 

 would be at you like a tiger before he tumbled to it you 

 were the master ! *' 



