Franklin, will be to pay me
back that seven-and-sixpence you borrowed of me when you were a boy."
This stroke of sarcasm put him in a better humour with himself and with
me. We left the house, and passed through the lodge gates. Once clear of
the grounds, the duties of hospitality (in Betteredge's code of morals)
ceased, and the privileges of curiosity began.
He dropped back, so as to let me get on a level with him. "Fine evening
for a walk, Mr. Franklin," he said, as if we had just accidentally
encountered each other at that moment. "Supposing you had gone to the
hotel at Frizinghall, sir?"
"Yes?"
"I should have had the honour of breakfasting with you, to-morrow
morning."
"Come and breakfast with me at Hotherstone's Farm, instead."
"Much obliged to you for your kindness, Mr. Franklin. But it wasn't
exactly breakfast that I was driving at. I think you mentioned that you
had something to say to me? If it's no secret, sir," said Betteredge,
suddenly abandoning the crooked way, and taking the straight one, "I'm
burning to know what's brought you down here, if you please, in this
sudden way."
"What brought me here before?" I asked.
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