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itself clean and tidy until it arrives at the party. And
after all, what was there for him to explain? We were
being bumped and jolted-along a rough road at forty
miles an hour, and this obviously implied that the
horses had been sent on to the meet. We passed them
just before we got there, and Mr. Blarnett revealed
their identity by leaning out of the car and shouting
UI have me flask5 \ to the groom, who grinned and
touched his hat. The flask, which had been brandished
as ocular proof, was very large, and looked like a
silver-stoppered truncheon.

It was a fine morning and there was quite a large
crowd at the crossroads, where the hounds were clus-
tering round the hunt servants on a strip of grass in
front of an inn.

Having pulled up with a jerk which nearly shot
us out of our seats, we alighted, and Mr. Blarnett,
looking rather as if he'd just emerged from a cold dip
in the ocean, enquired "Am I acquainted with your
officer friend?'5 A formal introduction followed. "My
friend Kegworthy is riding one of Mike Shehan's
horses. He's having his first day's hunting," I ex-
plained, and then added, "His first day's hunting in
Ireland"; hoping thereby to give Kegworthy a fic-
titious advantage over his total lack of experience.

Mr. Blarnett, in a confidential undertone, now
asked, "Will you take something before we start?"
Powerless to intervene I followed them to the inn.
Mr. Blarnett3 s popularity became immediately appa-
rent. Everyone greeted him like a long-lost brother,
and I also became aware that he was universally
known as "The Mister".

They all seemed overjoyed to see The Mister,
though most of them had seen him out hunting three
days the week before; and The Mister responded to