The girl beside him took not the smallest notice of his information. She was busy packing up brushes and paints, and her next remark showed him subtly that she did not mean to treat him as an acquaintance of the Tathams, whom she probably knew, but was determined to keep him to his rôle of stranger and tourist.
"You had better look at Threlfall as you pass. It has a splendid situation."
"I will. But why ought I to have heard of the gentleman? I forget his name."
"Mr. Melrose? Oh, well—he's a legend about here. We all talk about him."
"What's wrong with him? Is he a nuisance?—or a lunatic?"
"It depends what you have to do with him. About here he goes by the name of the 'Ogre.'"
"How, does he eat people up?" asked the stranger, smiling.
The girl hesitated.
"Ask one of his tenants!" she said at last.
"Oh, he's a landlord, and a bad one?"