“I don't know, sir; he paid you a visit once at Red Hall, I think.”
“How could I know him by that, you blockhead?”
“He's the gentleman, sir, you had hot words with.”
“That I kicked out one day? Crackenfudge, eh?”
“No, faith, sir; not Crackenfudge. I know him well enough; and devil a kick your honor gave him but I wished was nine. This is a very different man, sir; and I believe you had warm words with him too, sir.”
“Oh!” exclaimed his master; “I remember. Is he above?”
“I believe so, sir.”
A strange and disagreeable feeling came over the baronet on hearing these words—a kind of presentiment, as it were, of something unpleasant and adverse to his plans. On entering the drawing-room, however, he was a good deal surprised to find that there was nobody there; and after a moment's reflection, a fearful suspicion took possession of him; he rang the bell furiously.
Gibson, who had been out, now entered.
“Where is Miss Gourlay, sir?” asked his master, with eyes kindled by rage and alarm.