“Oh, quite!”
“Then I’ll give ye a title for yer romance.”
“That’s very kind of you. Give it.”
“The Story of Two Young Fools. By an Old One,” said MacLachan witheringly, and turned to depart.
“Mac!”
“What?”
“Wait a moment.”
I held him with my glittering eye. Also, in case that should be inadequate, with the crook of my cane firmly fixed upon his ankle.
“I’ll waste na time from the tailorin’,” began the Scot disdainfully, but paused as I pointed a loaded finger at his head. “Well?” he said, showing a guilty inclination to flinch.
“Mac, was I an original accomplice in this affair?”