"Not sure of him? What are you afraid of? Whisky-running?" asked Jack,
with a twinkle.

There was no answering gleam of humour on Hill's face. "I never trust
any man until I know him," he said. "He may be sound, or he may be a
scoundrel. He's got to prove himself."

"You take a fatherly interest in that mine," observed Jack.

"I have a reason," said Fletcher Hill, briefly.

"Ah! Ever met Fortescue himself?"

"Once or twice," said Hill.

"Pretty badly hated, isn't he?" said Jack.

"By the blackguards, yes." Hill spoke with characteristic grimness. "He's
none the worse for that."

"All the better, I should say," remarked Adela. "But what is he like? Is
he an old man?"

"About my age," said Hill.

"I wish you'd give us an introduction to him," she said, with animation.
"I've always wanted to see that mine. You'd like to, too, wouldn't you,
Dot?"