CHAPTER VIII.
Colin seeks an interview with Squire Lupton. An unexpected adventure takes place, which raises him to the station of a hero, and promises great things to come.
WHEN Colin arrived at Kiddal Hall, Mr. Lupton was quietly reposing himself on a small couch placed near the widely-opened window of his drawing-room, and inhaling the fragrance of the great “wicked weed” from a long Turkish pipe, whose voluminous folds lay like a sleeping serpent on the ground beside him. At some distance from him, close to the door, and unperceived by the squire, stood an individual of short stature, dressed in a coat that reached nearly to his knees; inexpressibles that descended to the same point, blue worsted stockings, and laced-up boots. His hat was placed upon its crown on the floor beside him, as though the owner, in so disposing of it, meditated a stay of some duration.
“Is that Mr. Lupton?” demanded a gruff voice.
“Who the d——l is that?” exclaimed the squire, puffing the smoke away from his mouth, and looking eagerly in the direction whence the voice proceeded.
“Nay—nay, now!” was the reply he received, “it signifies nothing to you who I am, for if a man gets justice done him for his crimes, what can it matter to him whose hand does it?”
“How did you come in here, fellow?” again asked the squire.
“Never mind asking me how I got here,” replied the little old man; “that is my business and not yours. I am here, and that is enough.”
“But, what are you?—who are you?—for what purpose have you come here?”