Meanwhile Stranleigh and the Professor enjoyed the cold repast that had been put up for them in London, washed down by a wine whose equal they would not meet in the place to which they were bound. After a comforting smoke on the verandah Stranleigh retired within and presently emerged, divested of the clothes of Bond Street, and dressed in a hand-me-down suit such as a Billingsgate clerk would have considered his Sunday best. The Professor laughed heartily at the transformation, but Stranleigh assured him that this array was considered the height of fashion in Pebblesdale, and was the despair of the one tailor in the place who vainly strove to emulate its elegance.
"But wait," he added, "till you see me some stormy day in my dripping oilskins, then you'll realise that a man's a man for a' that."
The two now set out along a forest path that, after a brisk half-hour's walk, led them to a door in the stone wall, which Stranleigh unlocked and passed out into a country lane. Following this for an hour, they came within sight and smell of the sea, then, descending and descending, they arrived at the picturesque little village in the cove, climbing up from the shore between towering hills, musical with the babble of a stream near at hand, and the distant thunder of big breakers on the sands. There were not many people to be seen as the two walked down the one street of the
