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"The cowardly desperado" such, I remember, was the editorial expression was supposed to have escaped with a large part of this mysterious fund still in his possession. I was still brooding over the fact, and trying to torture it into some connection with Mr. Huddlestone's danger, when a man entered the tavern and asked for some bread and cheese with a decided foreign accent.
He went home to his aunt, Lady Jane, for Sundays and holidays; and soon knew every bird's-nest about Queen's Crawley, and rode out with Sir Huddlestone's hounds, which he had admired so on his first well-remembered visit to the home of his ancestor.
Huddlestone's was certainly no ordinary character; he had read and observed for himself; his gifts were sound; and, though I could never have learned to love the man, I began to understand his success in business, and the great respect in which he had been held before his failure.
Huddlestone's tale; and in an instant we were all four as white as paper, and sat tongue-tied and motionless round the table. "A snail," I said at last; for I had heard that these animals make a noise somewhat similar in character. "Snail be d d!" said Northmour. "Hush!"
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