"
"You were saying--" resumed Morley.
"Ah! yes, about that man Hatton; remember him perfectly well;
a matter of twenty or it may be nineteen years since he
bolted. Queer fellow; lived upon nothing; only drank water;
no temperance and teetotal then, so no excuse. Beg pardon, Mr
Morley; no offence I hope; can't bear whims; but respectable
societies, if they don't drink, they make speeches, hire your
rooms, leads to business."
"And this Hatton--" said Gerard.
"Ah! a queer fellow; lent him a one-pound note--never saw it
again--always remember it--last one-pound note I had. He
offered me an old book instead; not in my way; took a china
jar for my wife. He kept a curiosity shop; always prowling
about the country, picking up old books and hunting after old
monuments; called himself an antiquarian; queer fellow, that
Hatton."
"And you have heard of him since?" said Gerard rather
impatiently.
"Not a word," said their host; "never knew any one who had."
"I thought you had something to tell us about him," said
Stephen.
"So I have; I can put you in the way of getting hold of him
and anything else. I havn't lived in Mowbray man and boy for
fifty years; seen it a village, and now a great town full of
first-rate institutions and establishments like this," added
their host surveying the Temple with a glance of admiring
complacency; "I say I havn't lived here all this time and
talked to the people for nothing.
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