However, it gave material for a
report to Sir Cresswell Oliver, and he determined to write out an account
of his dealings with Spurge that afternoon, and to send it off at once by
registered letter.
He was busily engaged in this task when Mrs. Wooler came into his
sitting-room to lay the table for his lunch. Copplestone saw at once that
she was full of news.
"Never rains but it pours!" she said with a smile. "Though, to be sure,
it isn't a very heavy shower. I've got another visitor now, Mr.
Copplestone."
"Oh?" responded Copplestone, not particularly interested. "Indeed!"
"A young clergyman from London--the Reverend Gilling," continued the
landlady. "Been ill for some time, and his doctor has recommended him to
try the north coast air. So he came down here, and he's going to stop
awhile to see how it suits him."
"I should have thought the air of the north coast was a bit strong for
an invalid," remarked Copplestone. "I'm not delicate, but I find it quite
strong enough for me."
"I daresay it's a case of kill or cure," replied Mrs. Wooler. "Chest
complaint, I should think. Not that the young gentleman looks
particularly delicate, either, and he tells me that he's a very good
appetite and that his doctor says he's to live well and to eat as much as
ever he can."
Copplestone got a view of his fellow-visitor that afternoon in the hall
of the inn, and agreed with the landlady that he showed no evident signs
of delicacy of health.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104