"
"Where did you meet him, Uncle Gilbert?"
"I didn't meet him. He met me. I shouldn't have dreamed of meeting
him. He met me at the railway station at Donard, and invited himself
to luncheon with me. He also brought a doctor whom he had along with
him. Then he warned me that my life wouldn't be safe in Ballymoy. I
thought he was the usual sort of fool with scare ideas about leagues
and boycotting. But it wasn't that at all. He thought he'd frighten
me off with stories about bad drains; said I'd be sure to die if I
stayed at the hotel. He was quite right there, I must say. I should
have died if I hadn't left at once."
"Were they very bad?"
"Were what very bad? Oh, the drains. Not at all. At least I daresay
they were bad enough. I wasn't there long enough to find out. But I
shouldn't have died of the drains in any case. I'm not the kind of man
who catches diseases."
Sir Gilbert's chest swelled a little as he spoke, and he slowly puffed
out a large cloud of smoke. He was justly proud of his physical
health, and was accustomed to hurl defiance at microbes and to heap
contempt on the doctor's art.
"I'm sure you're not," said Miss King dutifully.
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