The colonel shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
Mr. Mouncey thought it advisable to introduce another subject.
"Have you heard of the change we are to have here?" he asked, pointing towards the mill.
"I have heard nothing; I only arrived last night."
"Mr. Gibson has sold the mill. You know, perhaps, that for some time past he has been carrying it on at a loss. Now he has made over the whole concern to some one else."
"And who is the purchaser?"
"Some one from London. Philip Darnell is his name."
As it passed his lips, Mr. Mouncey saw that the name was not unknown to the colonel. The old soldier gave a slight start, his colour changed, his brow contracted, as if with pain.
"You know this gentleman, perhaps?" Mr. Mouncey ventured to suggest.
"By hearsay only," replied Colonel Carruthers stiffly. "He is of your complexion politically, Mouncey. He came forward as a candidate for one of the suburban boroughs some time ago, but was not elected. You will perhaps find him a sympathetic companion."