Mr. Dwerrihouse smiled complacently.

“It will be an improvement,” he said; “a great improvement.  Stockbridge is a flourishing town, and needs but a more direct railway communication with the metropolis to become an important centre of commerce.  This branch was my own idea.  I brought the project before the board, and have myself superintended the execution of it up to the present time.”

“You are an East Anglian director, I presume?”

“My interest in the company,” replied Mr. Dwerrihouse, “is threefold.  I am a director; I am a considerable shareholder; and, as head of the firm of Dwerrihouse, Dwerrihouse, and Craik, I am the company’s principal solicitor.”

Loquacious, self-important, full of his pet project, and apparently unable to talk on any other subject, Mr. Dwerrihouse then went on to tell of the opposition he had encountered and the obstacles he had overcome in the cause of the Stockbridge branch.  I was entertained with a multitude of local details and local grievances.  The rapacity of one squire; the impracticability of another; the indignation of the rector whose glebe was threatened; the culpable indifference of the Stockbridge townspeople, who could not be brought to see that their most vital interests hinged upon a junction with the Great East Anglian line; the spite of the local newspaper; and the unheard-of difficulties attending the Common question,—­were each and all laid before me with a circumstantiality that possessed the deepest interest for my excellent fellow-traveller, but none whatever for myself.  From these, to my despair, he went on to more intricate matters:  to the approximate expenses of construction per mile; to the estimates sent in by different contractors; to the probable traffic returns of the new line; to the provisional clauses of the new Act as enumerated in Schedule D of the company’s last half-yearly report; and so on, and on, and on, till my head ached, and my attention flagged, and my eyes kept closing in spite of every effort that I made to keep them open.  At length I was roused by these words:—­

“Seventy-five thousand pounds, cash down.”

“Seventy-five thousand pounds, cash down,” I repeated, in the liveliest tone I could assume.  “That is a heavy sum.”

“A heavy sum to carry here,” replied Mr. Dwerrihouse, pointing significantly to his breast-pocket; “but a mere fraction of what we shall ultimately have to pay.”

“You do not mean to say that you have seventy-five thousand pounds at this moment upon your person?” I exclaimed.

“My good sir, have I not been telling you so for the last half-hour?” said Mr. Dwerrihouse, testily.  “That money has to be paid over at half past eight o’clock this evening, at the office of Sir Thomas’s solicitors, on completion of the deed of sale.”

“But how will you get across by night from Blackwater to Stockbridge with seventy-five thousand pounds in your pocket?”