XXIV
A CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION
The laird of Stanesland strode into the Kings Arms and demanded:
"Mr. Carrington? What, having a cup of tea in his room? What's his number? 27—right! I'll walk right up, thanks."
He walked right up, made the door rattle under his knuckles and strode jauntily in. There was no beating about the bush with Mr. Cromarty either in deed or word.
"Well, Mr. Carrington," said he, "don't trouble to look surprised. I guess you've seen right through me for some time back."
"Meaning—?" asked Carrington with his engaging smile.
"Meaning that I'm the unknown, unsuspected, and mysterious person who's putting up the purse. Don't pretend you haven't tumbled to that!"
"Yes," admitted Carrington, "I have tumbled."
"I knew my sister had given the whole blamed show away! I take it you put your magnifying glass back in your pocket after your trip out to Stanesland?"
"More or less," admitted Carrington.
"Well," said Ned, "that being so, I may as well
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