Explore "The Free Fishers" by John Buchan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sir Turnour stared at the singular figure which was now inside the room and busy with apologetic shuffles and bows. He seemed to be a small man of the professional class, a country doctor maybe, for sober black apparel was revealed under the flapping great-coat.
"Your pardon, sir," said the figure. "I'm sure I beg your pardon for intruding on you. But I'm seeking the landlord, and this hostel is as short of folk as a kirk on Monday."