Turning quietly, he found himself face to face with a bright-eyed, full-bearded little man of forty, who used an eye-glass, and spoke with the greatest suspicion of a Scottish accent.
‘Crieff?’
‘Yes,’ returned the little man. ‘But is it yourself? How long have you been in England?’
‘Just one month,’ said Sutherland.
‘When I last heard of you, you were somewhere in the wilds of North America. There was a paragraph going round that you had joined a Free-love community in the Western States. Well, of all the places in the world, the last I should expect to find you in is a theatre. Do you like the new actress?’
‘I am not a very good judge of acting,’ replied Sutherland, quietly; ‘but if you mean do I like her personally——’
‘Well, it comes to that.’
‘Then I think she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’
‘You don’t say that!’ said the little man, opening his eyes.
‘Only once in my life before, and that was years ago, under extraordinary circumstances, have I seen such a face. Should it be the same—but no, that is scarcely possible. Do you know anything of Miss Vere’s history?’