Brother and sister cast a swift glance down the road, but there was no
male figure in sight which could by any possibility belong to a visitor
from the South.
"You go in, and I'll mount guard at the door. Buy some postcards to
send home!" suggested Ron; and, nothing loath, Margot entered the little
shop, glancing round with a curious air. There was no other customer
but herself; but a queer little figure of a man stood behind the
counter, sorting packets of stationery. He turned his head at her
approach, and displayed a face thickly powdered with freckles of
extraordinary size and darkness. Margot was irresistibly reminded of an
advertisement of "The Spotted Man," which she had once seen in a
travelling circus, and had some ado to restrain a start of surprise.
The eyes looking out between the hairless lids, looked like nothing so
much as a pair of larger and more animated freckles, and the hair was of
the same washed--out brown. Whether the curious-looking specimen was
fourteen or forty was at first sight a problem to decide, but a closer
inspection proved the latter age to be the more likely, and when Margot
smiled and wished him a cheery good afternoon, he responded with unusual
cordiality for an inhabitant of the glen.
"Good efternoun to ye, mem! What may ye be seeking, the day?"
Margot took refuge in the picture postcards, which afforded a good
excuse for deliberation. The great object was to dally in the post
office as long as possible, in the hope of meeting the real Mr Elgood;
and to this end she turned over several packets of views, making the
while many inquiries; and the spotted man was delighted to expatiate on
the beauties of his native land, the more so, as, presumably, it was not
often that so lavish a purchaser came his way.
They were in the middle of the fourth packet of views, and the selected
pile of cards had reached quite a formidable height, when a familiar
whistle from the doorway started Margot into vivid attention, and a
minute later a tall dark man stepped hastily into the shop.
What a marvellous thing is family likeness! In height, in complexion,
and feature alike this man appeared diametrically the opposite of the
stout little person encountered outside the inn; yet in his thin,
cadaverous face there was an intangible something which marked him out
as a child of the same parents. The brother on whom Margot was now
gazing was considerably the younger of the two, and might have been
handsome, given a trifle more flesh and animation. As it was, he looked
gaunt and livid, and his shoulders were rounded, as with much stooping
over a scholar's desk.
"A fine big bundle for ye the day, Mister Elgood! I'm thinking the
whole of London is coming down upon ye," the postmaster declared
affably, as he handed over a formidable packet of letters. Envelopes
white and envelopes blue, long manuscript envelopes, which Margot
recognised with a reminiscent pang; rolled-up bundles of papers. The
stranger took them over with a thin hand, thrust them into the pockets
of his coat, with a muttered word of acknowledgment, and turned back to
the door.