‘I daresay he will make himself understood,’ said the Earl. ‘Do you understand this house, Mr. Logan? It looks very modern, does it not?’
‘Early Georgian, surely?’ said Logan.
‘The shell, at least on this side, is early Georgian—I rather regret it; but the interior, northward, except for the rooms in front here, is of the good old times. We have secret stairs—not that there is any secret about them—and odd cubicles, in the old
Border keep, which was re-faced about 1750; and we have a priest’s hole or two, in which Father Riccoboni might have been safe, but would have been very uncomfortable, three hundred years ago. I can show you the places to-morrow; indeed, we have very little in the way of amusement to offer you. Do you fish?’
‘I always take a trout rod about with me, in case of the best,’ said Logan, ‘but this is “soolky July,” you know, and the trout usually seem sound asleep.’
‘Their habits are dissipated here,’ said Lord Embleton. ‘They begin to feed about ten o’clock at night. Did you ever try night fishing with the bustard?’
‘The bustard?’ asked Logan.
‘It is a big fluffy fly, like a draggled mayfly, fished wet, in the dark. I used to be fond of it, but age,’ sighed the Earl, ‘and fear of rheumatism have separated the bustard and me.’
‘I should like to try it very much,’ said Logan. ‘I often fished Tweed and Whitadder, at night, when I was a boy, but we used a small dark fly.’
‘You must be very careful if you fish at night here,’ said Lady Mary. ‘It is so dark in the valley under the woods, and the Coquet is so dangerous. The flat sandstone ledges are like the floor of a room, and then a step may land you in water ten feet deep, flowing in a narrow channel. I am always anxious when anyone fishes here at night. You can swim?’