his stud farm this afternoon, and if your lordship cared to have a look
at them--"

"If?" cried Sir Charles. "There isn't any 'if.' Three finer animals man
never threw leg over, judging from report," he explained to John Steele.
"Stud farm's about a mile in the opposite direction from Strathorn
House. Mind a little jog to the farm first?"

"Not at all!" John Steele had been looking thoughtfully toward the door
that had closed upon the man whose quick regard he had detected. "Only,
if you will allow me to make a counter proposal,--Strathorn House, you
say, is near; I am in the mood for exercise, after sitting so long, and
should like to walk there."

"By all means," returned the other, "since it's your preference. Pretty
apt to overtake you," he went on, after giving his guest a few
directions. "Especially if you linger over any points of interest!"

The trap drew up; the two men separated. Sir Charles rattled briskly
down one way, Steele turned to go the other. But before setting out, he
asked a casual question or two of the landlord, relating to the
occasional "gentleman from London"; the host, however, appeared to know
little of any cosmopolitan visitors who had happened to drift that way,
and John Steele, eliciting no information in this regard, finally
started on his walk. Whatever his thoughts, many quaint and
characteristic bits of the town failed to divert them; he looked neither
to the right, at a James I. sun-dial; nor to the left, where a small
sign proclaimed that an event of historical importance had made
noteworthy that particular spot. Over the cobblestones, smoothed by the
feet of many generations, he walked with eyes bent straight before him