Lord Belpher's twenty-first birthday dawned brightly, heralded inby much twittering of sparrows in the ivy outside his bedroom. ThesePercy did not hear, for he was sound asleep and had had a latenight. The first sound that was able to penetrate his heavy slumberand rouse him to a realization that his birthday had arrived wasthe piercing cry of Reggie Byng on his way to the bath-room acrossthe corridor. It was Reggie's disturbing custom to urge himself onto a cold bath with encouraging yells; and the noise of thisperformance, followed by violent splashing and a series of sharphowls as the sponge played upon the Byng spine, made sleep animpossibility within a radius of many yards. Percy sat up in bed,and cursed Reggie silently. He discovered that he had a headache.

　　Presently the door flew open, and the vocalist entered in person,clad in a pink bathrobe and very tousled and rosy from the tub.

　　"Many happy returns of the day, Boots, old thing!"Reggie burst rollickingly into song.

　　"I'm twenty-one today!

　　Twenty-one today!

　　I've got the key of the door!

　　Never been twenty-one before!

　　And father says I can do what I like!

　　So shout Hip-hip-hooray!

　　I'm a jolly good fellow,Twenty-one today."Lord Belpher scowled morosely.

　　"I wish you wouldn't make that infernal noise!""What infernal noise?""That singing!""My God! This man has wounded me!" said Reggie.

　　"I've a headache.""I thought you would have, laddie, when I saw you getting away withthe liquid last night. An X-ray photograph of your liver would showsomething that looked like a crumpled oak-leaf studded withhob-nails. You ought to take more exercise, dear heart. Except forsloshing that policeman, you haven't done anything athletic foryears.""I wish you wouldn't harp on that affair!"Reggie sat down on the bed.

　　"Between ourselves, old man," he said confidentially, "I also--Imyself--Reginald Byng, in person--was perhaps a shade pollutedduring the evening. I give you my honest word that just afterdinner I saw three versions of your uncle, the bishop, standing ina row side by side. I tell you, laddie, that for a moment I thoughtI had strayed into a Bishop's Beano at Exeter Hall or the Athenaeumor wherever it is those chappies collect in gangs. Then the threebishops sort of congealed into one bishop, a trifle blurred aboutthe outlines, and I felt relieved. But what convinced me that Ihad emptied a flagon or so too many was a rather rummy thing thatoccurred later on. Have you ever happened, during one of thesefeasts of reason and flows of soul, when you were bubbling overwith joie-de-vivre--have you ever happened to see things? What Imean to say is, I had a deuced odd experience last night. I couldhave sworn that one of the waiter-chappies was that fellow whoknocked off your hat in Piccadilly."Lord Belpher, who had sunk back on to the pillows at Reggie'sentrance and had been listening to his talk with only intermittentattention, shot up in bed.

　　"What!""Absolutely! My mistake, of course, but there it was. The fellowmight have been his double.""But you've never seen the man.""Oh yes, I have. I forgot to tell you. I met him on the linksyesterday. I'd gone out there alone, rather expecting to have around with the pro., but, finding this lad there, I suggested thatwe might go round together. We did eighteen holes, and he lickedthe boots off me. Very hot stuff he was. And after the game he tookme off to his cottage and gave me a drink. He lives at the cottagenext door to Platt's farm, so, you see, it was the identicalchappie. We got extremely matey. Like brothers. Absolutely! So youcan understand what a shock it gave me when I found what I took tobe the same man serving bracers to the multitude the same evening.

　　One of those nasty jars that cause a fellow's head to swim a bit,don't you know, and make him lose confidence in himself."Lord Belpher did not reply. His brain was whirling. So he had beenright after all!

　　"You know," pursued Reggie seriously, "I think you are making thebloomer of a lifetime over this hat-swatting chappie. You'vemisjudged him. He's a first-rate sort. Take it from me! Nobody couldhave got out of the bunker at the fifteenth hole better than he did.

　　If you'll take my advice, you'll conciliate the feller. A reallyfirst-class golfer is what you need in the family. Besides, evenleaving out of the question the fact that he can do things with aniblick that I didn't think anybody except the pro. could do, he's acorking good sort. A stout fellow in every respect. I took to thechappie. He's all right. Grab him, Boots, before he gets away.

　　That's my tip to you. You'll never regret it! From first to lastthis lad didn't foozle a single drive, and his approach-putting hasto be seen to be believed. Well, got to dress, I suppose. Mustn'twaste life's springtime sitting here talking to you. Toodle-oo,laddie! We shall meet anon!"Lord Belpher leaped from his bed. He was feeling worse than evernow, and a glance into the mirror told him that he looked ratherworse than he felt. Late nights and insufficient sleep, added tothe need of a shave, always made him look like something thatshould have been swept up and taken away to the ash-bin. And as forhis physical condition, talking to Reggie Byng never tended to makeyou feel better when you had a headache. Reggie's manner was notsoothing, and on this particular morning his choice of a topic hadbeen unusually irritating. Lord Belpher told himself that he couldnot understand Reggie. He had never been able to make his mindquite clear as to the exact relations between the latter and hissister Maud, but he had always been under the impression that, ifthey were not actually engaged, they were on the verge of becomingso; and it was maddening to have to listen to Reggie advocating theclaims of a rival as if he had no personal interest in the affairat all. Percy felt for his complaisant friend something of theannoyance which a householder feels for the watchdog whom he findsfraternizing with the burglar. Why, Reggie, more than anyone else,ought to be foaming with rage at the insolence of this Americanfellow in coming down to Belpher and planting himself at the castlegates. Instead of which, on his own showing, he appeared to haveadopted an attitude towards him which would have excited remarkif adopted by David towards Jonathan. He seemed to spend all hisspare time frolicking with the man on the golf-links and hobnobbingwith him in his house.

　　Lord Belpber was thoroughly upset. It was impossible to prove it orto do anything about it now, but he was convinced that the fellowhad wormed his way into the castle in the guise of a waiter. He hadprobably met Maud and plotted further meetings with her. This thingwas becoming unendurable.

　　One thing was certain. The family honour was in his hands.

　　Anything that was to be done to keep Maud away from the intrudermust be done by himself. Reggie was hopeless: he was capable, asfar as Percy could see, of escorting Maud to the fellow's door inhis own car and leaving her on the threshold with his blessing. Asfor Lord Marshmoreton, roses and the family history took up so muchof his time that he could not be counted on for anything but moralsupport. He, Percy, must do the active work.

　　He had just come to this decision, when, approaching the window andgazing down into the grounds, he perceived his sister Maud walkingrapidly--and, so it seemed to him, with a furtive air--down theeast drive. And it was to the east that Platt's farm and thecottage next door to it lay.

　　At the moment of this discovery, Percy was in a costume ill adaptedfor the taking of country walks. Reggie's remarks about his liverhad struck home, and it had been his intention, by way of acorrective to his headache and a general feeling of swollenill-health, to do a little work before his bath with a pair ofIndian clubs. He had arrayed himself for this purpose in an oldsweater, a pair of grey flannel trousers, and patent leatherevening shoes. It was not the garb he would have chosen himselffor a ramble, but time was flying: even to put on a pair of bootsis a matter of minutes: and in another moment or two Maud would beout of sight. Percy ran downstairs, snatched up a softshooting-hat, which proved, too late, to belong to a person with ahead two sizes smaller than his own; and raced out into thegrounds. He was just in time to see Maud disappearing round thecorner of the drive.

　　Lord Belpher had never belonged to that virile class of thecommunity which considers running a pleasure and a pastime. AtOxford, on those occasions when the members of his college hadturned out on raw afternoons to trot along the river-bankencouraging the college eight with yelling and the swinging ofpolice-rattles, Percy had always stayed prudently in his rooms withtea and buttered toast, thereby avoiding who knows what colds andcoughs. When he ran, he ran reluctantly and with a definite objectin view, such as the catching of a train. He was consequently notin the best of condition, and the sharp sprint which was imperativeat this juncture if he was to keep his sister in view left himspent and panting. But he had the reward of reaching the gates ofthe drive not many seconds after Maud, and of seeing herwalking--more slowly now--down the road that led to Platt's. Thisconfirmation of his suspicions enabled him momentarily to forgetthe blister which was forming on the heel of his left foot. He setout after her at a good pace.

　　The road, after the habit of country roads, wound and twisted. Thequarry was frequently out of sight. And Percy's anxiety was suchthat, every time Maud vanished, he broke into a gallop. Anotherhundred yards, and the blister no longer consented to be ignored.

　　It cried for attention like a little child, and was rapidlyinsinuating itself into a position in the scheme of things where itthreatened to become the centre of the world. By the time the thirdbend in the road was reached, it seemed to Percy that this blisterhad become the one great Fact in an unreal nightmare-like universe.

　　He hobbled painfully: and when he stopped suddenly and darted backinto the shelter of the hedge his foot seemed aflame. The onlyreason why the blister on his left heel did not at this junctureattract his entire attention was that he had become aware thatthere was another of equal proportions forming on his right heel.

　　Percy had stopped and sought cover in the hedge because, as herounded the bend in the road, he perceived, before he had time tocheck his gallop, that Maud had also stopped. She was standing inthe middle of the road, looking over her shoulder, not ten yardsaway. Had she seen him? It was a point that time alone could solve.

　　No! She walked on again. She had not seen him. Lord Belpher, bymeans of a notable triumph of mind over matter, forgot the blistersand hurried after her.

　　They had now reached that point in the road where three choicesoffer themselves to the wayfarer. By going straight on he may winthrough to the village of Moresby-in-the-Vale, a charming littleplace with a Norman church; by turning to the left he may visit theequally seductive hamlet of Little Weeting; by turning to the rightoff the main road and going down a leafy lane he may find himselfat the door of Platt's farm. When Maud, reaching the cross-roads,suddenly swung down the one to the left, Lord Belpher was for themoment completely baffled. Reason reasserted its way the nextminute, telling him that this was but a ruse. Whether or no she hadcaught sight of him, there was no doubt that Maud intended to shakeoff any possible pursuit by taking this speciously innocent turningand making a detour. She could have no possible motive in going toLittle Weeting. He had never been to Little Weeting in his life,and there was no reason to suppose that Maud had either.

　　The sign-post informed him--a statement strenuously denied by thetwin-blisters--that the distance to Little Weeting was one and ahalf miles. Lord Belpher's view of it was that it was nearer fifty.

　　He dragged himself along wearily. It was simpler now to keep Maudin sight, for the road ran straight: but, there being a catch ineverything in this world, the process was also messier. In orderto avoid being seen, it was necessary for Percy to leave the roadand tramp along in the deep ditch which ran parallel to it. Thereis nothing half-hearted about these ditches which accompany Englishcountry roads. They know they are intended to be ditches, not merefurrows, and they behave as such. The one that sheltered LordBelpher was so deep that only his head and neck protruded above thelevel of the road, and so dirty that a bare twenty yards of travelwas sufficient to coat him with mud. Rain, once fallen, isreluctant to leave the English ditch. It nestles inside it forweeks, forming a rich, oatmeal-like substance which has to bestirred to be believed. Percy stirred it. He churned it. Heploughed and sloshed through it. The mud stuck to him like abrother.

　　Nevertheless, being a determined young man, he did not give in.