uharter hid as
long as possible. There was a knock at the cottage door, and presently
Mrs. Morran appeared.

"It's the man frae the inn," she announced. "He's wantin' a word wi'
ye. Speakin' verra ceevil, too."

"Tell him to come up," said Dickson. He might as well get the
interview over. Dobson had seen Loudon and must know of their
conversation. The sight of himself back again when he had pretended to
be off to Glasgow would remove him effectually from the class of the
unsuspected. He wondered just what line Dobson would take.

The innkeeper obtruded his bulk through the low door. His face was
wrinkled into a smile, which nevertheless left the small eyes ungenial.
His voice had a loud vulgar cordiality. Suddenly Dickson was conscious
of a resemblance, a resemblance to somebody whom he had recently seen.
It was Loudon. There was the same thrusting of the chin forward, the
same odd cheek-bones, the same unctuous heartiness of speech. The
innkeeper, well washed and polished and dressed, would be no bad copy
of the factor. They must be near kin, perhaps brothers.

"Good morning to you, Mr. McCunn. Man, it's pitifu' weather, and just
when the farmers are wanting a dry seed-bed. What brings ye back here?
Ye travel the country like a drover."

"Oh, I'm a free man now and I took a fancy to this place. An idle body
has nothing to do but please himself."

"I hear ye're taking a lease of Huntingtower?"

"Now who told you that?"

"Just the clash of the place. Is it true?"

Dickson looked sly and a little annoyed.

"I had maybe had half a thought of it, but I'll thank you not to repeat
the story. It's a big house for a plain man like me, and I haven't
properly inspected it."

"Oh, I'll keep mum, never fear. But if ye've that sort of notion, I
can understand you not being able to keep away from the place."

"That's maybe the fact," Dickson admitted.

"Well! It's just on that point I want a word with you." The innkeeper
seated himself unbidden on the chair which held Dickson's modest
raiment. He leaned forward and with a coarse forefinger tapped
Dickson's pyjama-clad knees. "I can't have ye wandering about the
place. I'm very sorry, but I've got my orders from Mr. Loudon. So if
you think that by bidin' here you can see more of the House and the
policies, ye're wrong, Mr. McCunn. It can't be allowed, for we're no'
ready for ye yet. D'ye understand? That's Mr. Loudon's orders....
Now, would it n