“I didn’t think of it at first,” confessed Lady Coote. “This poor boy here⁠—” she indicated Jimmy⁠—“being shot⁠—and everything so dreadful, but so exciting. It wasn’t till Mr. Bateman asked me where Sir Oswald was that I remembered he’d gone out half an hour before for a stroll.”

“Sleepless, eh, Sir Oswald?” asked Battle.

“I am usually an excellent sleeper,” said Sir Oswald. “But I must confess that last night I felt unusually restless. I thought the night air would do me good.”

“You came out through this window, I suppose?”

Was it his fancy, or did Sir Oswald hesitate for a moment before replying?

“Yes.”

“In your pumps too,” said Lady Coote, “instead of putting thick shoes on. What would you do without me to look after you?”