one o'clock
I therefore welcomed a suggestion from Mr. Flurry Knox that we should accompany him to some typical country races , got up by the farmers at a place called Lisheen , some twelve miles away . It was the worst road in the district , the races of the most grossly unorthodox character ; in fact , it was the very place for Leigh Kelway to collect impressions of Irish life , and in any case it was a blessed opportunity of disposing of him for the day . In my guest 's attire next morning I discerned an unbending from the role of cabinet minister towards that of sportsman ; the outlines of the note-book might be traced in his breast pocket , but traversing it was the strap of a pair of field-glasses , and his light grey suit was smart enough for Goodwood . Flurry was to drive us to the races at one o'clock , and we walked to Tory Cottage by the short cut over the hill , in the sunny beauty of an April morning . Up to the present the weather had kept me in a more or less apologetic condition ; any one who has entertained a guest in the country knows the unjust weight of responsibility that rests on the shoulders of the host in the matter of climate , and Leigh Kelway , after two drenchings , had become sarcastically resigned to what I felt he regarded as my mismanagement . Flurry took us into the house for a drink and a biscuit , to keep us going , as he said , till `` we lifted some luncheon out of the Castle Knox people at the races , '' and it was while we were thus engaged that the first disaster of the day occurred . The dining-room door was open , so also was the window of the little staircase just outside it , and through the window travelled sounds that told of the close proximity of the stable-yard ; the clattering of hoofs on cobble stones , and voices uplifted in loud conversation .