CHAPTER XXIII
In Which Sir Archibald Armstrong Is Almost Floored By a Business Proposition, But Presently Revives, and Seems to be About to Rise to the Occasion
Sir Archibald Armstrong was a colonial knight. His decoration––one of Her late Majesty’s birthday honours––had come to him for beneficent political services to the colony in time of trouble and ruin. He was a Newfoundlander born and bred (though educated in the English schools); and he was fond of saying in a pleasantly boastful way and with a little twinkle of amusement in his sympathetic blue eyes: “I’m a fish-merchant, sir––a Newfoundland fish-merchant!” This was quite true, of course; but it was only half the truth. Directly or indirectly, Sir Archibald’s business interests touched every port in Newfoundland, every harbour of the Labrador, the markets of Spain and Portugal, of the West Indies and the South American Republics.
Sir Archibald was alone in his cozy office. 195 The day was raw and wet. There was a blazing fire in the grate––an agreeable bit of warmth and brightness to contrast with the rain beating on the window-panes.
A pale little clerk put his head in at the door. “Beg pardon, sir,” he jerked. “Master Archie, sir.”
“Master Archie!” Sir Archibald exclaimed.
Archie entered.
“What’s this?” said Sir Archibald, in amazement. “Back from Ruddy Cove?”
“On business,” Archie replied.