t an interview with another man. He invariably kept his strongest
argument, or his boldest proposal, to the last, and invariably
remembered it at the door (after previously taking his leave), as if it
was a purely accidental consideration which had that instant occurred to
him. Jocular friends, acquainted by previous experience with this form
of proceeding, had given it the name of "Pedgift's postscript." There
were few people in Thorpe Ambrose who did not know what it meant when
the lawyer suddenly checked his exit at the opened door; came back
softly to his chair, with his pinch of snuff suspended between his
box and his nose; said, "By-the-by, there's a point occurs to me;" and
settled the question off-hand, after having given it up in despair not a
minute before.

This was the man whom the march of events at Thorpe Ambrose had now
thrust capriciously into a foremost place. This was the one friend at
hand to whom Allan in his social isolation could turn for counsel in the
hour of need.

"Good-evening, Mr. Armadale. Many thanks for your prompt attention to my
very disagreeable letter," said Pedgift Senior, opening the conversation
cheerfully the moment he entered his client's house. "I hope you
understand, sir, that I had really no choice under the circumstances but
to write as I did?"

"I have very few friends, Mr. Pedgift," returned Allan, simply. "And I
am sure you are one of the few."

"Much obliged, Mr. Armadale. I have always tried to deserve your good
opinion, and I mean, if I can, to deserve it now. You found yourself
comfortable, I hope, sir, at the hotel in London? We call it Our hotel.
Some rare old wine in the cellar, which I should have introduced to your
notice if I had had the honor of being with you. My son unfortunately
knows nothing about wine."

Allan felt his false position in the neighborhood far too acutely to be
capable of talking of anything but the main business of the evening. His
lawyer's politely roundabout method of approaching the painful subject
to be discussed between them rather irritated than composed him. He came
at once to the point, in his own bluntly straightforward way.

"The hotel was very comfortable, Mr. Pedgift, and your son was very kind
to me. But we are not in London now; and I want to talk to you about
how I am to meet the lies that are being told of me in this place.
Only point me out any one man," cried Allan, with a rising voice and a
mounting color--"any one