I raised my hat, and was about to pass them, when the general shouted to his coachman to pull up, and held out his hand to me. I could see now in the daylight that his face, although harsh and stern, was capable of assuming a not unkindly expression.
"How are you, Mr. Fothergill West?" he cried. "I must apologise to you if I was a little brusque the other night--you will excuse an old soldier who has spent the best part of his life in harness--All the same, you must confess that you are rather dark-skinned for a Scotchman."
"We have a Spanish strain in our blood," said I, wondering at his recurrence to the topic.
"That would, of course, account for it," he remarked. "My dear," to his wife, "allow me to introduce Mr. Fothergill West to you. This is my son and my daughter. We have come here in search of rest, Mr. West --complete rest."
"And you could not possibly have come to a better place," said I.
"Oh, you think so?" he answered. "I suppose it is very quiet indeed, and very lonely. You might walk through these country lanes at night, I dare say, and never meet a soul, eh?"
"Well, there are not many about after dark," I said.
"And you are not much troubled with vagrants or wandering beggars, eh? Not many tinkers or tramps or rascally gipsies--no vermin of that sort about?"
"I find it rather cold," said Mrs. Heatherstone, drawing her thick sealskin mantle tighter round her figure. "We are detaining Mr. West, too."
"So we are, my dear, so we are. Drive on, coachman. Good-day, Mr. West."
The carriage rattled away towards the Hall, and I trotted thoughtfully onwards to the little country metropolis.
As I passed up the High Street, Mr. McNeil ran out from his office and beckoned to me to stop.
"Our new tenants have gone out," he said. "They drove over this morning."
"I met them on the way," I answered.
As I looked down at the little factor, I could see that his face was flushed and that he bore every appearance of having had an extra glass.
"Give me a real gentleman to do business with," he said, with a burst of laughter. "They understand me and I understand them. 'What shall I fill it up for?' says the general, taking a blank cheque out o' his pouch and laying it on the table. 'Two hundred,' says I, leaving a bit o' a margin for my own time and trouble."
"I thought that the landlord had paid you for that," I remarked.
"Aye, aye, but it's well to have a bit margin. He filled it up and threw it over to me as if it had been an auld postage stamp. That's the way business should be done between honest men--though it wouldna do if one was inclined to take an advantage. Will ye not come in, Mr. West, and have a taste of my whisky?"
"No, thank you" said I, "I have business to do."
"Well, well, business is the chief thing. It's well not to drink in the morning, too. For my own part, except a drop before breakfast to give me an appetite, and maybe a glass, or even twa, afterwards to promote digestion, I never touch spirits before noon. What d'ye think o' the general, Mr. West?"
"Why, I have hardly had an opportunity of judging," I answered.
Mr. McNeil tapped his forehead with his forefinger.
"That's what I think of him," he said in a confidential whisper, shaking his head at me. "He's gone, sir, gone, in my estimation. Now what would you take to be a proof of madness, Mr. West?"
"Why, offering a blank cheque to a Wigtown house-agent," said I.
"Ah, you're aye at your jokes. But between oorsel's now, if a man asked ye how many miles it was frae a seaport, and whether ships come there from the East, and whether there were tramps on the road, and whether it was against the lease for him to build a high wall round the grounds, what would ye make of it, eh?"
"I should certainly think him eccentric," said I.
"If every man had his due, our friend would find himsel' in a house with a high wall round the grounds, and that without costing him a farthing," said the agent.
"Where then?" I asked, humouring his joke.