He probably at once regarded the Senator as
an enemy, as a man on the other side, and therefore as a cunning
knave who would be sure to come creeping about on false pretences.
Bean, who had already heard of Bearside and had heard of Scrobby in
connection with this matter, looked at the Senator very hard. He
knew Bearside. The man certainly was not the attorney, and from
what he had heard of Scrobby be didn't think he was Scrobby. The
man was not like what in his imagination Scrobby would be. He did
not know what to make of Mr. Gotobed,--who was a person of an
imposing appearance, tall and thin, with a long nose and look of
great acuteness, dressed in black from head to foot, but yet not
looking quite like an English gentleman. He was a man to whom Bean
in an ordinary way would have been civil,--civil in a cold guarded
way; but how was he to be civil to anybody who addressed him as
Goarly?
"I did not know it," said the Senator. "As Goarly lives near here I
thought you might be Goarly. When I saw Goarly he had a gun, and
you have a gun. Can you tell me where Goarly lives?"
"Tother side of the wood," said Bean pointing back with his thumb.
"He never had a gun like this in his hand in all his born days."
"I dare say not, my friend. I can go through the wood I guess;" for
Bean had pointed exactly over the gateway.
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