I was going to apply that text somehow to the ingots of steel and cubes of sugar, but my brain is quite evidently becoming numb. Civilisation is undoing me. I hope it will harden when it confronts realities among the rocks of Lannacombe."
Several days later a telegram came from the London solicitors, announcing to Stranleigh that he now possessed the coveted coastguard station. Once they were installed at Lannacombe, Stranleigh said to Blake:
"Do you know why I brought you here?"
"Yes," replied Blake, gloomily, "to undergo the rest-cure."
"Well, not exactly. I desired you, rather, to witness the effects of the rest-cure upon me. Bitterly will you regret your scoffing at the indolence I proposed for both of us. Now your busy days begin. Is the typewriter in good working order?"
"Excellent."
"You brought with you all the supplies necessary for that diabolical machine?"
"Everything."
"Very good. Now, I wish a history written of all my doings from the time I landed upon this rock until the day I leave."
"I can do that with a lead pencil, and in five
