I have a few words to say to you on my own account." Mannering paused.

There was a note of something unusual in Borrowdean's voice, a portent of things behind.

Mannering involuntarily straightened himself.

Something was awakened in him which had lain dormant for many years--dormant since those old days of battle, of swift attack, of ambushed defence and the clamour of brilliant tongues.

Some of the old light flashed in his eyes.
"Say it then--quickly!" "We speak of great things," Borrowdean continued, "and the catching of a train is a trifle.