Iredale looked quickly round the room. His survey was not lost upon his visitor. Then he went on––
“Chintz looked after you? Had any refreshment? Whisky?”
“Chintz looked after me! He looked in every now and then to see what I was doing.” Hervey laughed unpleasantly. “Yes, I can do with a gentle ‘four-fingers’; thanks.”
Iredale produced a decanter and glasses and a carafe of water. Then he excused himself while he went to change his clothes. While he was gone Hervey helped himself to a liberal measure of the spirit. He felt that it would be beneficial just then. His host’s unconcerned manner was a little disconcerting. The rancher seemed much harder to tackle when he was present.
Presently Iredale returned, and, seating himself in a deck-chair, produced a pipe, and pushed his tobacco jar over to his visitor. He was wondering what Hervey had come over for. He had no wish for his company just then. He had hoped to spend this evening alone. His mind was still in a state of feverish turmoil. However, he decided that he would get rid of the man as quickly as the laws of hospitality would allow.
A silence fell whilst the rancher waited to hear the object of the visit. The other refused to smoke, but Iredale lit his pipe and smoked solemnly. His face was, if possible, more serious than usual. His eyes he kept half veiled. Hervey cast about in his mind for the opening of his attack. He seated himself on the edge of the table and looked out of the window. He raised his eyes to the leaden sky, then he withdrew 232 his gaze and looked upon the floor. He swung one leg to and fro, as he leant sideways and supported his attitude with a hand resting upon the table. At length, as the silence continued, and Iredale presently raised his eyes and stared straight at him, he turned to the decanter and helped himself to another drink. Then he set his glass down with a heavy hand.
“Good tack, that,” he observed. “By the bye, where have all your owls departed to? Are they like the ducks, merely come, pause, and proceed on their migratory way? Or perhaps”––with a leer––“they only stand on sentry in the valley when––when you require them to.”
Iredale permitted the suspicion of a smile. But there was no geniality in it; on the contrary, it was the movement of his facial muscles alone. Hervey had touched upon delicate ground.
“Did they not welcome you with their wonted acclamation?” he asked, removing his pipe from his lips, and gently pressing the ash down into the bowl with his finger-tip.