ink, and queerer people."

"Aw! Is there any--aw--place to stop at?"

"Thinking of stopping over night? Oh yes, several very decent hotels."

"Aw! Which are you at yourself now?"

"I? Oh, I'm a resident. I've got a house here."

"Dooce you have! Well, now, where would you stop if you were me?"

"Well, if I were you I should stop at the Old Government House--"

"Right! Whereabouts is it?"

"It's over in Guernsey. Boat returns at five sharp."

"Aw! Quite so! Very good! But I've got--er--business here, don't you
know."

"Oh? Thinking of opening a branch here? Well, there's Stock's--but I
doubt if you'd fit in there--"

"Fit? Why not fit? Stocks are my line."

"I think I'd try the Bel-Air if I were you--"

"Which is nearest?" asked Charles Svendt, looking round
depreciatively.

"Bel-Air. Just along the tunnel there--"

"Good Lord! Along the tunnel--"

"Excuse me for a moment. I've got some things coming by this boat. I
must see to them," and Graeme sped away to attend to his frivolities.

XI

"And what special business brings you to Sark, Pixley?" asked Graeme,
as they passed through the tunnel of rock and climbed the steep way of
the Creux--its high banks masses of ferns, its hedges ablaze with
honeysuckle and roses, its trees interwoven into a thick canopy
overhead,--a living green tunnel shot with quivering sunbeams. All of
which was lost on Charles Svendt, whose chest was going like a
steam-pump and whose legs were quivering with the unusual strain.
Graeme regretted that he had not been landed on the ladders at Havre
Gosselin, where he himself came ashore. He would dearly have liked to
follow the portly one up those ladders and heard his comments.

In reply to Graeme's question he shook his head mutely and staggered
on--past the upper reaches, where the corded roots of the overhanging
trees came thrusting through the banks like twisting serpents; past
the wells of sweet water that lay dark and still below, and ran over
into the road, and trickled away down the sides in little streams; out
into the sunshine and the quickening of the breeze;--till he dropped
exhausted into a chair outside the door of the Bel-Air.

He sat there panting for close on five minutes, with unaccustomed
perspiration streaming down his red face, and then he said "Demn!"
and proceeded to mop himself up with his handkerchief.

Then he held up a finger to a distant waiter in the dining-room, and
when he came, murmured, "W