himself as long as I stay in London. It seems ludicrous to think of Ponderby having relatives, but we must take his word for it, so on my behalf strike a sort of social balance-sheet, and close the books. See that no letters are sent on, and then get off yourself. Where are you going this year? Switzerland, the Pyrenees, or does high living prescribe Marienbad?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter about me, my lord."
"Of course not; but where?"
"Well, a friend of mine has a nice little yacht, and we were thinking of the Norwegian fiords."
"The yacht isn't fitted with wireless, is it?"
"No, my lord, quite a modest sailing craft, that we work ourselves."
"Excellent, excellent. Couldn't be better. No possibility of our communicating with one another. Good luck to you!"
The same afternoon the young nobleman arrived by train at Stranleigh station, a good four miles from the village of that name. There was no one to meet him, for he had come unannounced and without impedimenta. Striking across country, and walking through forest and field, mostly over his own property, at last he saw Stranleigh Manor-
