Left alone, Gowrie rang the bell, and ordered another decanter of sherry, which was brought, since the servant fancied that Miss Tedder must have left instructions. It never struck the man that Gowrie would have the impudence to give an order on his own authority. But then he did not know the sage. Gowrie sipped the sherry, and chuckled over the success of his plot. But he was puzzled to think why Maud should be so angered against Angus Herries.
"A wumon scorned, I'm theenking," said Gowrie, meditatively, "she's wants tae marry the Captain, and yet hae her cousin deeing for her luve. But ye canna hae yer cake and eat it, young madam; nae, nae, I ken fine ye canna. I doot this Captain's playing the deil wi' ye, as ye played the jade wi' Herries. Weel, Herries wull marry my child, and the Captain his Mexican fly-away, and ye'll be left greeting, the which is nae mair nor ye deserve."
His meditations were interrupted by the return of Mrs. Mountford with a sheet of note-paper. On this Miss Tedder had written a promise that she would pay Michael Gowrie five hundred pounds when Herries was safe in gaol.
"I'm obleeged tae ye, me'em," said the sage, folding up the precious document, "awa' wi' this tae the poleece station, and invite yon Jack-in-office tae gang wi' me tae the salubrious village o' Anderfield in Bucks."
"Is that the name of the village, sir?"
"Aye. That's the name. Noo I hae the promise o' the siller, ye may ken the place where the marriage wull tak place. An' noo," he caught up his brand new silk hat, "I mau' be ganging ma ways."
"One moment," said Mrs. Mountford, laying her hand on his arm, "are you sure that Captain Kyles is engaged to this Mexican lady?"
"I am as sure as sure, me'em."
"Then he's a villain," cried Mrs. Mountford heavily, "for he told Miss Tedder that he loved her alone. But he had better take care, for Maud can--she can--"
"Can what?" asked Gowrie, struck by the significance of her tone.