"Few riders could have kept their seats so well," he answered, with
ill-concealed admiration.

"I have always been accustomed to horses. In Australia we ride a great
deal."

"For the instant," his face slightly paler, "I thought something would
happen."

"It might have," she returned, a light in her eyes, "but for a timely
hand. My horse apparently does not appreciate Scotch airs."

"Ugly brute!" Lord Ronsdale, a dissatisfied expression on his handsome
countenance, approached. "A little of the whip--" the words were
arrested; the nobleman stared at John Steele, or rather at the bare arm
which the torn sleeve revealed well above the elbow.

The white, uplifted arm suddenly dropped; Steele drew the cloth quickly
about it, but not before his eyes had met those of Lord Ronsdale and
caught the amazement, incredulity, sudden terror--was it terror?--in
their depths.

"Told you not to trust him, Jocelyn!" Sir Charles' loud, hearty voice at
the same moment interrupted. "There was a look about him I didn't like
from the beginning."

"Perhaps he needs only a little toning down to be fit," put in Captain
Forsythe, as he and the others drew near. "A few seasons with the
hounds, or--"