from, Mr. David Balfour?” he asked, looking me pretty drily in the face.
“I have come from a great many strange places, sir,” said I; “but I think it would be as well to tell you where and how in a more private manner.”
He seemed to muse awhile, holding his lip in his hand, and looking now at me and now upon the causeway of the street.
“Yes,” says he, “that will be the best, no doubt.” And he led me back with him into his house, cried out to some one whom I could not see that he would be engaged all morning, and brought me into a little dusty chamber full of books and documents. Here he sate down, and bade me be seated; though I thought he looked a little ruefully from his clean chair to my muddy rags. “And now,” says he, “if you have any business, pray be brief and come swiftly to the point. Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo—do you understand that?” says he, with a keen look.
“I will even do as Horace says, sir,” I answered, smiling, “and carry you in medias res.” He nodded as if he was well pleased, and indeed his scrap of Latin had been set to test me. For all that, and though I was somewhat encouraged, the blood came in my face when I added: “I have reason to believe myself some rights on the estate of Shaws.”
