“He appears to be well thought of at Maxfield,” said the Captain.
“My private opinion is—but you must not let it influence you—that he is somewhat of an adventurer. I know nothing of his antecedents.”
“Indeed! not even where he lives?”
“No; the Squire was reticent on the matter. He told me he had good recommendations with him, and that he was an Oxford man.”
“Surely that should be satisfactory. I hope we shall find him not difficult to get on with, after all. We shall have to wait a week or so, however, before putting the question to the test, as he has just gone off rather abruptly, and at this particular time rather inopportunely, on a journey, for what object I do not know.”
“Humph!” said the attorney. “I do not like mysteries. However, I trust it will be as you say.”
Dr Brandram, when presently the Captain called in for his ward, was in by no means a good temper.
“I have been blowing Roger up sky-high,” said he, puffing his smoke rather viciously in the Captain’s direction, “for behaving like a lunatic. The idea of his coming out and getting himself wet through with this cold upon him.”
“Dear, dear!” said the Captain; “has he got wet through? Why, my dear boy, what did I tell you?”
“You shouldn’t have let him come,” said the doctor bluntly. “He’s no business to play tricks with himself.”