“Mildly horsey. That’s not bad. No officers about?... Nothing nearer than Aldershot.... That’s eleven miles, is it? H’m. I suppose there aren’t any literary people about here, musicians or that kind of thing, no advanced people of that sort?”
“Not when I’ve gone,” said Mr. Brumley, with the faintest flavour of humour.
Sir Isaac stared at him for a moment with eyes vacantly thoughtful.
“It mightn’t be so bad,” said Sir Isaac, and whistled a little between his teeth.
Mr. Brumley was suddenly minded to take his visitor to see the view and the effect of his board upon it. But he spoke merely of the view and left Sir Isaac to discover the board or not as he thought fit. As they ascended among the trees, the visitor was manifestly seized by some strange emotion, his face became very white, he gasped and blew for breath, he felt for his face with a nervous hand.
“Four thousand,” he said suddenly. “An outside price.”
“A minimum,” said Mr. Brumley, with a slight quickening of the pulse.
“You won’t get three eight,” gasped Sir Isaac.
“Not a business man, but my agent tells me——” panted Mr. Brumley.
“Three eight,” said Sir Isaac.