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Updated: May 1, 2025
They were a little weak, those eyes, and had some difficulty in looking for long at the same object, so that Mr. McCunn did not stare people in the face, and had, in consequence, at one time in his career acquired a perfectly undeserved reputation for cunning. He shaved clean, and looked uncommonly like a wise, plump schoolboy.
"Sit down, Mr. McCunn. Take the arm-chair by the fire. I've had a wire from Glendonan and Speirs about you. I was just going to have a glass of toddy a grand thing for these uncertain April nights. You'll join me? No? Well, you'll smoke anyway. There's cigars at your elbow. Certainly, a pipe if you like. This is Liberty Hall."
She reported that her health was improving, and that she had met various people who had known somebody else whom she had once known herself. Mr. McCunn read the dutiful pages and smiled. "Mamma's enjoying herself fine," he observed to the teapot.
To her joy, on the Dalquharter side of the Garple bridge she observed the figure of a Die-Hard. Breathless, flushed, with her bonnet awry and her umbrella held like a scimitar, she seized on the boy. "Awfu' doin's! They've grippit Maister McCunn up the Mains road just afore the second milestone and forenent the auld bucht. I fund his hat, and a bicycle's lyin' broken in the wud.
He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold: When we mind labour, then only, we're too old What age had Methusalem when he begat Saul? He would go journeying who but he? pleasantly." It sounds a trivial resolve, but it quickened Mr. McCunn to the depths of his being. A holiday, and alone! On foot, of course, for he must travel light.
A ghost of a smile lurked there, to which Dickson promptly responded. He grinned and bowed. "Very pleased to meet you, Mem. I'm Mr. McCunn from Glasgow." "You don't even know my name," she said. "We don't," said Heritage. "They call me Saskia. This," nodding to the chair, "is my cousin Eugenie.... We are in very great trouble. But why should I tell you? I do not know you. You cannot help me."
The odd names, the odd cul-de-sac of a peninsula, powerfully attracted him. Why should he not spend a night there, for the map showed clearly that Dalquharter had an inn? He must decide promptly, for before him a side-road left the highway, and the signpost bore the legend, "Dalquharter and Huntingtower." Mr. McCunn, being a cautious and pious man, took the omens.
Tell Glendonan and Spiers to advise him to expect me, for I'll go this very day." Mr. Caw resumed his conversation. "My client would like a telegram sent at once to Mr. Loudon introducing him. He's Mr. Dickson McCunn of Mearns Street the great provision merchant, you know. Oh, yes! Good for any rent. Refer if you like to the Strathclyde Bank, but you can take my word for it. Thank you.
"All the same I would like to have a look at the place to-morrow, even if nothing comes of it." Mr. Loudon looked seriously perplexed. "You will think me absurdly fussy, Mr. McCunn, but I must really beg of you to give up the idea. The Kennedys, as I have said, are well, not exactly like other people, and I have the strictest orders not to let any one visit the house without their express leave.
And there was one other whom Dickson recognized with peculiar joy the bagman in the provision line of business whom he had met three days before at Kilchrist. The recognition was mutual. "Mr. McCunn!" the bagman exclaimed. "My, but that was running it fine! I hope you've had a pleasant holiday, sir?" "Very pleasant. I've been spending two nights with friends down hereaways.
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