"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 circumstances.
"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?"
"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.
Mr Ratman's natural modesty prompted a precipitate retreat from the embarrassing 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."