He was out
of the room for a long time, nearly an hour by the clock, and when he
came back his manner was serious and a little apologetic.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Hobhouse," said he, "and I assure you
there is nothing to worry about, but the fact is a detective is here and
wants to have a word with you."
"A detective!" exclaimed Mr. Hobhouse nervously. "You don't say so? Dear
me, what can he want me for!"
"He's a man Bolton," said the doctor, "the very man who came up about six
months ago under the name of Thompson and gave himself out as a cattle
dealer. By Jove, I can see now what he came for! But anyhow it's about
the _Uruguay_ business this time and he is interviewing everybody, and if
you don't mind, he'd like a few words with you."
I went into the dining room and saw for the first time my rival. He was
a big, sturdy, red-faced man, with a plain bluff manner, an ideal
dealer; but his were shrewd and keen. In fact once I had looked into
them I put him down as a better man than I had fancied. We exchanged a
conventional word on either side, and then both of us instinctively
glanced at the door.
"Better speak quietly, Mr. Merton," said he.
I nodded and said with a smile: "So you are not here as a dealer this
time, Mr. Bolton?"
"No," said he, "I want to get straight to business, and there's too much
humbug and waste of time if one has to talk cattle for half an hour
first.
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