"
Mr. Green said, "Three pound," and stared helplessly at the cottages
opposite, confused by the need to assimilate, on the spur of the
moment, a new idea.
"Three pounds?" said Tinker quickly. "Why, he only cost fifteen
shillings a year ago!"
"An orfer is an orfer!" said Mr. Green quickly, his wits spurred at the
sudden prospect of a lowering of the price. "And I takes it."
As he led away Blazer, with a new proprietary pride Tinker said firmly
to Sir Tancred, "I shall go on considering him a bloodhound, sir."
CHAPTER SIX
THE RESCUE OF ELIZABETH KERNABY
Sir Tancred paused now and again in his leisurely breakfast to scowl
across the dining room at Mr. Biggleswade, who, with his sour-looking
wife and woebegone little girl, was breakfasting at an opposite table.
The Royal Victoria Hotel was second-rate. The cooking was poor, the
wine was bad, and Solesgate itself was dull. But these misfortunes Sir
Tancred would have endured cheerfully because the place suited
Hildebrand Anne, who had but lately recovered from an attack of scarlet
fever at Farndon-Pryze, but he could not endure Mr. Biggleswade. It
was not so much that he had reckoned up Mr. Biggleswade as a large,
fat, greasy rogue, nor was it that no snub once and for all stopped Mr.
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