He drew a great sigh, and stood looking at the paper.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr.Armour ?" urged the trader.
"Nothing, thank you, nothing at all.

Just leave the brandy here, will you?
I feel knocked about, and I have to go through the rest of these letters." He ran his fingers through the pile, turning it over hastily, as if searching for something.

The trader understood.

He was a cool-headed Scotsman; he knew that there were some things best not inquired into, and that men must have their bad hours alone.

He glanced at the brandy debatingly, but presently turned and left the room in silence.