“What odds are you offerin’?” Sir Archie asked. “John backed himself and I took a tenner off him. What about an even fiver?”
“I’ll give you three to one in five-pound notes that I win,” said Leithen grimly. “But that’s pride, not conviction.”
“Done with you, my lad,” said Sir Archie, and departed to write an acceptance of the invitation to dinner.
Fish Benjie remained behind, and it was clear that he had something to communicate. He caught Lamancha’s eye, who gave him the opening he sought by asking what was the news from Strathlarrig. Benjie had the instinct of the ballad-maker, and would begin his longer discourses with an epic flourish of the “Late at e’en drinkin’ the wine” style.
“It was at fower o’clock this mornin’ they started,” he announced, “and they’re still comin’.”
“Comin
