"For heaven's sake," he said, "don't mention jackals."

Then he threw open the door, releasing a burst of red lamplight,
and ran downstairs with a clatter.

The Major stepped into a rich, glowing room, full of red copper,
and peacock and purple hangings, hat in hand. He had the finest
manners in the world, and, though mystified, was not in the least
embarrassed to see that the only occupant was a lady, sitting by
the window, looking out.

"Madam," he said, bowing simply, "I am Major Brown."

"Sit down," said the lady; but she did not turn her head.

She was a graceful, green-clad figure, with fiery red hair and a
flavour of Bedford Park. "You have come, I suppose," she said
mournfully, "to tax me about the hateful title-deeds."

"I have come, madam," he said, "to know what is the matter. To know
why my name is written across your garden. Not amicably either."

He spoke grimly, for the thing had hit him. It is impossible to
describe the effect produced on the mind by that quiet and sunny
garden scene, the frame for a stunning and brutal personality.
The evening air was still, and the grass was golden in the place
where the little flowers he studied cried to heaven for his
blood.

"You know I must not turn round," said the lady; "every afternoon