would I! A
nice girl--hysterical, high-strung, but full of the pride of race. The
fourth window from the left, she said. I'll put Dollops on the job,
while I snoop around a bit for myself, and see how the land lies. Mine
host might possibly put me wise to a good deal, as our American cousins
say."

So he strolled into the bar-parlour, and ordered a tankard of ale, and
over it made the acquaintance of that particular specimen of rugged
Scotch manhood who was for the time being to be his host.

"Fine views in these parts," said he, conversationally, and in the
man-of-the-world-tourist-idiot voice which he affected upon occasions.
"My man and myself want to put up here for the fishin', doncherknow. You
can fix us in all right, I suppose?"

"Cairtainly, sair. Therre's plainty of rume in th' Three Fishairs,"
responded Mr. Fairnish, with a smile of welcome, and in that inimitable
accent which is Scotland's own, and which rings like rugged music upon
the ear of the stranger to those parts. "We've a nice bedroom facin' th'
Castle. It'll be a grrand view in the mornin' wi' yer tea. And yer
man--we'll find him a shake-down nearr-by, if ye so wish ut."

Cleek liked on sight this genial host with his mellow accent.

"Well, I'd prefer for him to be within reachin' distance of me,
doncherknow," he said, with an inane grin into the red-whiskered
countenance, blue-eyed and lined with exposure to wind and weather, that
glowed above him.

"Cairtainly. If ye weesh it; Mrs. Fairnish will show ye yer rume, and
anything ye may want----"

Cleek raised a detaining hand.

"Please don't be in any hurry," he said pleasantly. "I've all day here
before me. Come down to do a bit of fishin', doncherknow. Fine sport in
these parts, they tell me. And that's Aygon Castle, is it? I know the
young lady, Miss Duggan, slightly. Grand place it looks, to be sure."

Mr. Fairnish raised his eyes ceilingwards. His hands followed them.

"It's a heavenly spot indeed," he said piously, as one might speak of
some religious place of worship. "One of the grrandest in our whole
country, sair. You'll be visitin' there, no doubt?"

"Oh, possibly. A friendly call, doncherknow. What's the old chap like
who owns it?"

Mr. Fairnish cast a hurried look on either side of him. The canny Scot
showed uppermost in his visage. But the coast was clear. Only a boy of
ten or twelve played at the other end of the bar with a roughly made
engine of wood, dragging it to an