CHAPTER XI
WAYS AND MEANS
The afternoon of that same day there arrived at the village of Strathorn from London a discreet-looking little man who, descending at the Golden Lion, was shown to a private sitting-room on the second story. Calling for a half-pint from the best tap and casually surveying the room, he settled himself in a chair with an air of nonchalance, which a certain eagerness in his eyes seemed to belie.
"Any mail or message for me, landlord?" he inquired, giving his name, when that worthy reappeared with the tankard.
"No, sir."
"Nor any callers?"
"None that I've heard of--" A sound of wheels at that moment interrupted; the landlord went to the window. "Why, it's his lordship," he remarked. "And such weather to be out in!" as a sudden gust of rain beat against the pane. "Lord Ronsdale who is staying at Strathorn House," he explained for the stranger's benefit. "And he's coming in!"
The host hurried to the door but already a footstep was heard on the stairway and the voice of the nobleman inquiring for the new-comer's room.
"Right up this way! The gentleman is in here, your Lordship," called down the landlord. Lord Ronsdale mounted leisurely and entered the room.