He welcomed his visitor with effusion, and insisted on calling for another syphon, and having another little table arranged at the elbow of the other easy chair.
“Make yourself comfortable, old chap, and let us have a jaw,” he said. “I haven’t seen you for ages. Are you at the Chase?”
They talked of the usual village topics, glanced at the great world of politics, speculated upon the prospects of the shooting season, and then Theodore approached the real business of his visit.
“There is a fellow I am interested in from a business point of view,” he began, “who has been hanging about this place, off and on, for the last five and twenty years, I believe, though I have never happened to meet him. He is a drinking man, and altogether a bad lot; but it is my business to hunt him down.”
“On account of some property, I suppose?”
“Yes, on account of some property. Now, I know what an observer you are, Dolby, and what a wonderful memory you have——”
“I haven’t wasted it up in London,” interjected Dolby. “A week in Oxford Street and the Strand would take ten years off my memory. It’s pretty clear at present, thank God. Well, now, what about this fellow, what kind of a fellow is he—a gentleman or a cad?”
“He was once a gentleman, but he may have tumbled pretty low by this time. He was going down hill at a good pace five and twenty years ago.”
“Egad, then he must be at the bottom of the hill, I take it. What is he like—fat or lean, dark or fair, short or tall?”
“A tall man, fair complexion, a man who has once been handsome, a showy-looking man,” answered Theodore, quoting the house-agent.