“Pardon me. I was particular. My songs were for the most part of the classical order; but what were you saying?”
“I was saying,” said the captain, now fairly dropping the dignified, and falling back on the abusive, “what were you before that?”
“Really, Captain Oliphant, you have been so acute and successful so far, I would not on any account deprive you of the satisfaction of discovering what little more remains to complete my humble biography by your own exertions. Meanwhile, as to Roger’s college; had you leisure when at Oxford to make any inquiries as to that rather important question?”
“Oblige me by addressing your conversation to some one else, sir. I am not disposed to be asked questions by an adventurer and sharper, who—”
The tutor’s face blackened, the glass fell from his eye, and he rose to his feet so suddenly that the chair on which he had been sitting fell back violently.
Captain Oliphant turned pale and started to his feet too in an attitude of self-defence and retreat. But the tutor only walked over to the fireplace to knock out his ashes into the fender, and then, resuming his glass, said quietly—
“I beg your pardon; I interrupted you.” Captain Oliphant did not pursue the subject, and presently retired, leaving his co-trustee master of the situation.
“Strange,” said the latter to himself when the enemy had gone, “what a look he has of his daughter. The resemblance was distinctly fortunate for him five minutes ago.”