“Shut your knife, you scoundrel! Poor Sammy, did the villain threaten you?”
Sammy crouched, and fawned, and whimpered, and went on his belly to lick his master, while I wiped the perspiration of my fright beneath my hat.
“This is a nice way to begin,” said Chowne, after giving his dog a kick, “to come here and draw a knife on my very best dog. Go down on your knees, sir, and beg Sammy’s pardon.”
“May it please your reverence,” I replied, in spite of his eyes, which lay fiercer upon me than even those of the dog had done, “I would have cut his throat; and I will, if he dares to touch me.”
“That would grieve me, my good Welshman, because I should then let loose the pack, and we might have to bury you. However, no more of this trifle. Go in to my housekeeper, and recover your nerves a little, and in half an hour come to my study.”
I touched my hat and obeyed his order, following the track which he pointed out, but keeping still ready for action if any more dogs should bear down on me. However, I met no creature worse than a very morose old woman, who merely grunted in reply to the very best flourish I could contrive, and led me into a long low kitchen. Dinnertime for the common people being now at maturity, I expected to see all the servants of course, and to smell something decent and gratifying. However, there was no such luck, only, without even asking my taste, she gave me a small jug of sour ale, and the bottom of a loaf, and a bit of Dutch cheese. Of course this was good enough for me; and having an appetite after the ride, I felt truly grateful. However, I could not help feeling also that in the cupboard just over my elbow there lay a fillet of fine spiced beef, to which I have always been partial. And after the perils I had encountered, the least she could do was to offer it down. Anywhere else I might have taken the liberty of suggesting this, but in that house I durst not, further than to ask very delicately—
“Madam, it is early for great people; but has his reverence been pleased to dine?”
“Did he give you leave to ask, sir?”
“No, I cannot say that he did. I meant no offence; but only—”
“I mean no offence; but only, you must be a stranger to think of asking a question in this house without his leave.”
Nothing could have been said to me more thoroughly grievous and oppressive. And she offered no line or opening for me to begin again, as cross women generally do, by not being satisfied with their sting. So I made the best of my bread-and-cheese, and thought that Sker House was a paradise compared to Nympton Rectory.
“It is time for you now to go to my master,” she broke in with her cold harsh voice, before I had scraped all the rind of my cheese, and when I was looking for more sour beer.
“Very well,” I replied; “there is no temptation of any sort, madam, to linger here.”
She smiled, for the first time, a very tart smile, even worse than the flavour of that shrewd ale, but without its weakness. And then she pointed up some steps, and along a stone passage, and said, exactly as if she took me for no more than a common tramp—
“At the end of that passage turn to the left, and knock at the third door round the corner. You dare not lay hands on anything. My master will know it if you do.”
This was a little too much for me, after all the insults I had now put up with. I turned and gazed full on her strange square face, and into the depth of her narrow black eyes, with a glimpse of the window showing them.
“Your master!” I said. “Your son, you mean! And much there is to choose between you!”
She did not betray any signs of surprise at this haphazard shot of mine, but coldly answered my gaze, and said—
“You are very insolent. Let me give you a warning. You seem to be a powerful man: in the hands of my master you would be a babe, although you are so much larger. And were I to tell him what you have said, there would not be a sound piece of skin on you. Now, let me hear no more of you.”
“With the greatest pleasure, madam. I am sure I can’t understand whatever could bring me here.”
“But I can;” she answered, more to her own thoughts than to mine, as she shut the door quite on my heels, and left me to my own devices. I felt almost as much amiss as if I were in an evil dream of being chased through caves of rock by some of my very best customers, all bearing red-hot toasting forks, and pelting me with my own good fish. It is the very worst dream I have, and it never comes after a common supper; which proves how clear my conscience is. And even now I might have escaped, because there were side passages; and for a minute I stood in doubt, until there came into my mind the tales of the pack of hounds he kept, and two or three people torn to pieces, and nobody daring to interfere. Also, I wanted to see him again, for he beat everybody I had ever seen; and I longed to be able to
