By the old man’s attitude Rolfe scented that something was amiss, and set himself to discover what it was and report to his master.
“Is there any real dissatisfaction in the works?” he asked Macgregor, after a brief pause.
“There was a wee bittie, but it’s a’ passed away.”
“Then it is not concerning the works that you want to see Mr Statham?”
“Nay, mon, not at all.”
“Nor about any new patent?”
“Nay.”
Rolfe was filled with wonder. The attitude of the old fellow was sphinx-like and yet he seemed confident that the millionaire would see him when he applied for an interview. For a full half-hour they chatted, but canny Macgregor told his questioner nothing—nothing more than that he was about to go to London to have a talk with the great financier upon some important matter which closely concerned him.
Therefore by the West Coast evening express, Rolfe left Glasgow for the south, full of wonder as to what the white-bearded old fellow meant by his covert insinuations and his proud confidence in the millionaire’s good offices. There was something there which merited investigation—of that he was convinced.