"I can't," confessed he, at length; "but there is one thing that I
remember hearing Hume tell about him; it seemed laughable at the time,
and I suppose that's why it's stuck to me. It seems that the supposed
ancestor were a great felly for dress, and expected the like of all
the men under him; and though he often had niver a crust of bread to
put into their mouths, he always managed to have a pinch of white
powder for them to dress their hair."
Ashton-Kirk laughed suddenly, and leaned back in his chair. The gleam
died out of his eyes, and a twinkle of satisfaction replaced it.
"That," said he, "sounds amusing enough to be true. Mr. Hume's
ancestor was at least consistent. But," and his tone changed, "we must
not keep you from your duties, Mr. Tobin, and so we'll get to the
matter in hand."
"If it is not hurrying you," agreed Tobin.
"A while ago," spoke Ashton-Kirk, "you mentioned young Allan Morris;
and during your conversation you have led me to think that you were
his father's friend."
"I were," said Tobin. "He were a decent man."
"Then perhaps your friendship extends to the son as well."
"Perhaps it does," and a note of perceptible caution crept into
Tobin's voice.
"I am glad to hear it," said the investigator.
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