"Of course you did!" he said, and a civil but ugly smile came on his clever, unpleasant face. "As a matter of fact, Trewhella, the landlord, has just gone to the village for a few minutes. He asked me to keep house for him. He's almost due back now."
Thanking him urbanely, I sat down, my mind working very quickly. He offered me some whisky, and though it was the last thing I wanted, I accepted after a show of reluctance. He was watching me out of the corners of his eyes the whole time.
"Can you tell me," I said, with great openness of manner, "if I can get rooms here, or in Zerran village?"
He became alert at once. "Rooms, to stay in, do you mean?"
"Yes. I am an Oxford tutor, and I have a young foreign gentleman in my charge whom I am coaching. I want a quiet place for three or four weeks, and this seems ideal for the purpose."
His face cleared. "I should imagine so," he replied. "I know Trewhella does let sometimes."
"You live here?" I remarked, with polite indifference.
"I have been here for a year," he answered. "I am, as a matter of fact, a mining engineer—hence these clothes! I belong to a little private syndicate of friends who are opening up a disused tin-mine, on the moor not far away. Ah, here is the landlord! Trewhella, this gentleman wishes to speak to you." And then to me: "Good-morning, sir. No doubt, if you come here, I and my friends will see something of you. We are mostly public-school and University men ourselves, and we often look in here of an evening after our day's work."
He waved his hand and went out into the sunshine.