he had detached him from personal service, and had sent him down separately to pick up unconsidered trifles in the character of a traveling huckster. And the old sleuth-hound had done well, after only a couple of hours in the place, in bringing this news of painters who could not paint, yet were returning on the morrow. The General had such absolute trust in his henchman’s methods that he did not trouble to inquire how the news had been acquired, thereby sparing Azimoolah the needless narrative of a deal with the landlady of the “Hanbury Arms,” where the strangers had put up their cart and lunched.
“Very good, old jungle-wolf,’ was all the comment he vouchsafed, and, making a mental note to see that the park was barred in future to the limners of “deer like unto swine,” he was passing on to further instructions when the sound of wheels was heard far away down the avenue, and a moment later carriage-lamps twinkled into view round a corner in the drive.
“Here they come,” he said. “Better make yourself scarce now, but stay within call in case I want you.”
Azimoolah vanished in the darkness, and the General strolled on to the end of the terrace,
[142]
