Vane drummed with his fingers on the table. “I suppose that’s the case; but I’ve got to make the journey. With moderately good fortune it shouldn’t take me long.”
“Ye would be running some risk if anything delayed ye and we had to call a meeting before ye got back.”
“I see that, but it can’t be helped. I expect to be back before I’m wanted. Anyway, I could leave you authority to act on my behalf.”
After a further attempt to dissuade him, Nairn spread out one hand resignedly. “He who will to Cupar maun be left to gang,” he said. “Whiles, I have wondered why any one should be so keen on getting there, but doubtless a douce Scottish town has mair attractions for a sensible person than the rugged North-West in winter time.”
Vane, who smiled at this, went out and left him; and when he reached home Nairn briefly recounted the interview to his wife over his evening meal. Evelyn, who was with them, listened attentively.
“Yon man will no hear reason,” Nairn concluded. “He’s thrawn.”
Evelyn had already noticed that her host, for whom she had a strong liking, spoke broader Scots when he was either amused or angry, and she supposed that Vane’s determination disturbed him.
“But why should he persist in leaving the city, when it’s to his disadvantage to do so, as you lead one to believe it is?” she asked.
“If the latter’s no absolutely certain, it’s very likely,” Nairn informed her.
“You have only answered half my question,” Evelyn pointed out.