"Forgive me; here's
my pouch, old chap; or wait, here's something altogether finer than
anything you've been accustomed to. I was at old Kingston's last night,
and the old boy would have me load up with his finest. You know I've
been working with him this summer. Awfully fine for me! Dunn got me on;
or rather, his governor. There you are now! Smoke that with reverence."
"Ah," sighed Linklater, as he drew in his first whiff, "there is still
something left to live for. Now tell me, what about Cameron?"
"Oh, Cameron! Cameron's all up a tree. The last time I saw him, by Jove,
I was glad it was in the open daylight and on a frequented street. His
face and manner suggested Roderick Dhu, The Black Douglas, and all the
rest of that interesting gang of cutthroats. I can't bring myself to
talk of Cameron. He's been the old chief's relaxation during dog-days.
It makes me hot to see Dunn with that chap."
"Why, what's the trouble?"
"He tried him out in half a dozen positions, in every one of which he
proved a dead failure. The last was in Mr. Rae's office, a lawyer, you
know, Writer, to use your lucid and luminous speech. That experiment
proved the climax." At the memory of that experience Martin laughed loud
and long. "It was funny! Mr. Rae, the cool, dignified, methodical, exact
man of the law, struggling to lick into shape this haughty Highland
chieftain, who in his heart scorned the whole silly business.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111