If it were Mr Elgood, he was certainly not imposing, so far as looks
were concerned. A dumpy little man, of forty years or more, dressed in
a baggy suit of grey tweed, with carpet slippers on his dumpy little
feet. He had evidently started out of the inn to enjoy a smoke in the
open air, sublimely unconscious of the scrutiny that was levelled upon
him the while. His uncovered head showed a large bald patch, his face
was round and of a cherubic serenity.
"I could twist him round like a teetotum!" whispered Margot, holding up
a pert first finger and peering complacently.
"He looks terribly commonplace!" sighed Ronald disconsolately. "Not in
the least the sort of man I expected."
Together they peered and peeped, ducking behind the curtains as the
stranger approached, and gazing out again the moment his back was
turned. Every now and then he halted in his promenade, stuck his hands
inside his baggy pockets, and tilted slowly to and fro on the points of
his carpeted toes. Anon he took his pipe from his mouth, and blew out
big whiffs of smoke, glancing around the while with an expression of
beatific contentment. The whole appearance of the man was an embodiment
of the holiday spirit, the unrestrained enjoyment of one who has escaped
from work, and sees before him a pageant of golden idle hours. Margot
and Ronald smiled in sympathy even as they looked. He was a plain
little man, a fat little man, a middle-aged little man, but they
recognised in him the spirit of abiding youth, and recognising, felt
their hearts warm towards him.
"He is nice, Ron, after all! I like him!"
"So do I. A capital chap. But he can't possibly be Elgood of the
Loadstar."
Even as he spoke the last word the door was thrown suddenly open, and
Mrs McNab entered, carrying a plate of hot scones. She stopped short
to stare in surprise, while the two new arrivals hurried back to the
table, obviously discomposed at being discovered playing the part of
Peeping Tom.
Seated once more before the tea-tray, Margot made an effort at
composure; decided that honesty was the best policy, and said in her
most charming manner-"We were looking at the gentleman who is walking up and down! Another
of your guests, I suppose? It is interesting to see people who are
staying in the same house."
Mrs McNab planted the scones in the centre of the table, and gathered
together the soiled plates with a wooden stolidity. To all appearances
she might not have heard a word that had been said. Margot seized the
hot-water-jug, and shivered ostentatiously, trusting to pity to prevail
where guile had failed; and sure enough the pale blue eye turned on her
like a flash of steel.
"What's ailing ye with the water-jug?"