This dismal dwelling was inhabited by two people only, the old man above mentioned and his niece, a girl named Polly. The man had the reputation of being a miser, and certainly his appearance was suitable to the character. He was a tall, spare old man, with a long cadaverous face, a great aquiline nose, and straggling white hair. His niece was a short, buxom young woman with a nice manner and a soft, pleasing voice.
I was first called to The Nook to attend Mr. Stone for an attack of angina pectoris, a heart affection, which, as you know, is intensely painful, but not often fatal.
He was a difficult man to get on with—in fact he had no friends or visitors. I managed, however, to ingratiate myself both with uncle and niece, and went occasionally to the lonely old house to play draughts with my patient, a game to which he was very partial.
Now, as to the remarks about the trout and the fly. I regarded Michael Stone as a wary old fish, and I was constantly baiting him to let me into the secret of his supposed hoards of gold, if any, and if so, where? I was fairly certain that rumour did not speak falsely in the matter.
I was playing his favourite game with him
