“Yes, but the world’s very small. Yet, I’m not sure that England, that little bit of an island on the map, isn’t the largest section of it—as far as running into people goes.”
“Why it must be some years since I saw him. He must be ageing.”
“I should say not. He struck me as a remarkably wiry and energetic sort of man.”
“Energetic? Yes. He was too much that,” said the other. “He was always wanting to know everything. In point of fact, strictly between ourselves—he got to know too much.”
“Did he? In what direction?”
The tone was even, languid; the tone, in short, of a man who is enjoying his after-dinner smoke in the open air after a day of hard healthful exercise. But in reality the speaker suddenly found himself all athrill.
“Oh, he wanted to find out everything about the people—and there are about fifty different sorts and phases of people on the Northern border alone. Not content with getting behind their different character and manners and customs—and this is between ourselves, mind,” and the speaker instinctively lowered his voice—“he got himself mixed up in their secret societies.”
“The deuce he did!”
“Yes. Said he wanted to know the whole thing thoroughly, and everything about it, and that was the only way of getting to do so. But he ended by biting off rather more than he could chew.”
“How?”