'A great authority on all such matters, sir,' said young Skene, 'and not to have heard of him argues that you are—well, imperfectly up in the subject.'
'Which we had better drop,' said Roland, with a dangerous sparkle in his dark eyes; 'but pass the decanters, Jack—they stand with you.'
Mr. Hawkey Sharpe gave an audible sniff of contempt, meant, doubtless, for Elliot, whose cool stare at him was now blended with a smile indicative of curiosity and amusement, that proved alike enraging and baffling.
When the gentlemen rose to join the ladies in the drawing-room, whence came the distant notes of the piano and the voice of Annot Drummond with her inevitable 'Du du,' Hawkey Sharpe, with an unpleasant consciousness that he had been somewhat foolish and had the worst of his arguments, withdrew to his sanctum in the Beatoun wing to growl and smoke over his brandy and soda, and was seen no more for that night.
Pausing in the entrance-hall, Elliot said:
'Pardon me, Roland, but who is that unmitigated cad who contradicted me so at table?—seemed to want to fix a quarrel, by Jove!'
Roland coloured.
'Why, you redden as if he was a bailiff in disguise—a man in possession!' said Elliot, laughing.
'You forget, Jack, that such officials are unknown on this side of the Border.'
'Then who or what is he?' persisted Elliot.