Roger Ingleton, Minor Part 52

"He says he owes you money, and that you threaten to ruin him. Is that so?"

"Upon my word, if you want to know, it is."

"How much is it, please?"

Ratman laughed.

"Nothing. A trifle. Fifteen hundred pounds or thereabouts."

"Fifteen hundred!" faltered she. "Does he owe you all that."

The little she had to offer was a drop in the bucket only.

"Look here," said he; "Miss Rosy, your father's in a fix. I don't want to be hard on him, but I must have my money or its equivalent. Now, I should consider it a very fair equivalent to be allowed to call him father-in-law. I may not be up to your mark in some things, Miss Rosalind, but I've a good name, and I flatter myself I know beauty when I see it. Now, think over it. It's the only chance your father's got, and you might do worse for yourself than become the mistress of Maxfield. Good-bye. Shake hands."

She drew herself up with an air and a flush of colour which redoubled his admiration, and without a word, turned away with rapid steps.

Mr Ratman was sorely tempted to follow this beautiful creature, who, in all his chequered career, had been the only human being to discover the few last dregs of affection in his nature. As much as it was possible in such a man, he was in love with this debtor's daughter. The sensation was novel and exhilarating enough to afford him food for cheerful reflection as he walked on towards the station.

So engrossed was he in his day-dreams that he forgot that even country trains are occasionally punctual, and that, at least, he had not much time left him to catch the one he aimed at. Indeed, it was not till, within a few minutes of the station, he caught sight of the train already standing at the platform that it occurred to him to bestir himself. He ran, shouted, and waved his arm all at the same time, but to no effect. The whistle blew as he entered the yard, and as he reached the platform the guard's van was gliding out of the station.

Thoroughly ruffled--for this was the last train to town--Mr Ratman vented his wrath on the world in general, and the railway officials in particular, even including in his objurgations an unlucky pa.s.senger who had arrived by the train and shared with him the uninterrupted possession of the platform.

"Easy, young man," said the latter, a substantial-looking, bony individual with a wrinkled face, and speaking with a decided American tw.a.n.g. "You'll hurt yourself, I reckon, if you talk like that. It's bad for the jaws."

Mr Ratman took a contemptuous survey of the stranger and quitted the platform.

His first idea was to return to Maxfield and demand entertainment there for the night. But since he would have to walk all the way, and the first train in the morning left Yeld at eight, he decided to put up at the little hotel of the village instead, and with that object threw himself and his bag into the omnibus of that establishment which waited on the trains.

Somewhat to his disgust, the stranger, after collecting his baggage, entered the same vehicle and took a seat opposite him.

"Wal," said he, "you'll have time to cool down before the next train, young man. Putting up at the hotel?"

"Where else should I put up?" growled Ratman. "What business is it of yours?"

"I guess it's my business to get all the information I can on this trip.

I came over this side to learn."

"You've come to a queer hole to do it," said Ratman, beginning to feel he might as well resign himself to circ.u.mstances.

"Just so. It's changed a bit since I was here last. We had to drive from Barbeck then."

"So you know the place, do you?" inquired Ratman.

"That's so," was the laconic rejoinder. "A resident, likely?"

"Well, not at present, or I shouldn't be going to the inn."

"Down here on business, I reckon? I was a bagman myself once."

"You're wrong again. I've been down to see my property, if you want to know."

"Large estate, no doubt? Anywhere near my friend Ingleton's plot, now?"

Mr Ratman stared at the stranger with something like consternation.

"Ingleton!" he exclaimed. "What do you know of Ingleton?"

Here the omnibus pulled up.

"Wal, I reckon I should know something of my own family," drawled the stranger as he alighted. "What say?--shall we have a snack of something in the parlour! Come along."

The landlord led the way into the coffee-room. He knew Mr Ratman by this time.

"Sorry we can't give you and your friend the private room, sir, but there's only one other gentleman in the coffee-room, and he's going directly."

As they entered, the other gentleman, who was drying his boots at the fire, turned round, and Mr Ratman had the rapture of finding himself face to face with Mr Armstrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

CAPTAIN OLIPHANT PAYS ONE OF HIS DEBTS.

Mr Ratman's natural modesty prompted a precipitate retreat from the embarra.s.sing vicinity of the gentleman whom he had last seen with a horsewhip in his hand; but prudence and the presence of the stranger, and the lack of any other place to go to, prevailed upon him to remain.

The stranger, apparently unaware of the presence of a third party, continued his conversation where it had been interrupted.

"Yes," said he, "I reckon I should know something of my own family, although it's a generation since I set foot in these parts."

"Yes; all right," said Ratman uncomfortably. "I'll go and order dinner."

But the entrance of the landlord prevented this manoeuvre.

"The gig from Maxfield is in the village, Mr Armstrong," said he, addressing the tutor. "I've sent word to Robbins to call for you in half an hour. Maybe, if Mr Ratman is going up, you could give him a lift."

"Mr Ratman is not going up," said Mr Armstrong.

The stranger here took notice of the tutor.

"Friend of my friend, eh?" said he. "Pleased to know you, sir.

Resident in these parts, I presume? What?"

"Quite so," said Mr Armstrong, putting up his gla.s.s, and honouring the speaker with a minute survey.

"As I was saying to our young friend here, there's been changes in this locality since I was here about the time of Noah. You named Maxfield just now, sir. Likely you know Squire Ingleton, my relative, at the manor-house there?"

The tutor's gla.s.s dropped abruptly.