good rub," thought Gourlay in a clean disgust. Full lips showed
themselves bright red in the middle between the two wings of a very
blonde and very symmetrical moustache. The ugly feature of the face was
the blue calculating eyes. They were tender round the lids, so that the
white lashes stuck out in little peaks. And in conversation he had a
habit of peering out of these eyes as if he were constantly spying for
something to emerge that he might twist to his advantage. As he talked
to a man close by and glimmered (not at the man beside him, but far away
in the distance of his mind at some chance of gain suggested by the
other's words) Gourlay heard him say musingly, "Imphm, imphm, imphm!
there might be something _in_ that!" nodding his head and stroking his
moustache as he uttered each meditative "imphm."

It was Wilson's unconscious revelation that his mind was busy with a
commercial hint which he had stolen from his neighbour's talk. "The
damned sneck-drawer!" thought Gourlay, enlightened by his hate; "he's
sucking Tam Finlay's brains, to steal some idea for himsell!" And still
as Wilson listened he murmured swiftly, "Imphm! I see, Mr. Finlay;
imphm! imphm! imphm!" nodding his head and pulling his moustache and
glimmering at his new "opportunity."

Our insight is often deepest into those we hate, because annoyance fixes
our thought on them to probe. We cannot keep our minds off them. "Why do
they do it?" we snarl, and wondering why, we find out their character.
Gourlay was not an observant man, but every man is in any man somewhere,
and hate to-night driving his mind into Wilson, helped him to read him
like an open book. He recognized with a vague uneasiness--not with fear,
for Gourlay did not know what it meant, but with uneasy anger--the
superior cunning of his rival. Gourlay, a strong block of a man cut off
from the world by impotence of speech, could never have got out of
Finlay what Wilson drew from him in two minutes' easy conversation.

Wilson ignored Gourlay, but he was very blithe with Templandmuir, and
inveigled him off to a corner. They talked together very briskly, and
Wilson laughed once with uplifted head, glancing across at Gourlay as he
laughed. Curse them, were they speaking of him?

The hall was crammed at last, and the important bodies took their seats
upon the front benches. Gourlay refused to be seated with the rest, but
stood near the platform, with his back to the wall, by the side of
Templa