to my
destination were a little hazy. To come and look for some queer sort of
building by the side of the sea, which has been unoccupied for a dozen
years or so, scarcely seems a reasonable quest, does it?"

"Scarcely, indeed," Mr. Fentolin assented. "You may thank me, Mr. Hamel,
for the fact that the place is not in ruins. My blatant trespassing has
saved you from that, at least. After dinner we must talk further about
the Tower. To tell you the truth, I have grown accustomed to the use of
the little place."

The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the house. A moment later
Gerald entered, followed by a butler announcing dinner.

"The only remaining member of my family," Mr. Fentolin remarked,
indicating his nephew. "Gerald, you will be pleased, I know, to meet
Mr. Hamel. Mr. Hamel has been a great traveller. Long before you can
remember, his father used to paint wonderful pictures of this coast."

Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, for a moment, lighted up.
He was looking pale, though, and singularly sullen and dejected.

"There are two of your father's pictures in the modern side of the
gallery up-stairs," he remarked, a little diffidently. "They are great
favourites with everybody here."

They all went in to dinner together. Meekins, who had appeared silently,
had glided unnoticed behind his master's chair and wheeled it across the
hall.

"A partie carree to-night," Mr. Fentolin declared. "I have a resident
doctor here, a very delightful person, who often dines with us, but
to-night I thought not. Five is an awkward number. I want to get to know
you better, Mr. Hamel, and quickly. I want you, too, to make friends
with my niece and nephew. Mr. Hamel's father," he went on, addressing
the two latter, "and your father were great friends. By-the-by, have
I told you both exactly why Mr. Hamel is a guest here to-night--why he
came to these parts at all? No? Listen, then. He came to take possession
of the Tower. The worst of it is that it belongs to him, too. His father
bought it from your father more years ago than we should care to talk
about. I have really been a trespasser all this time."

They took their places at a small round table in the middle of the
dining-room. The shaded lights thrown downwards upon the table seemed
to leave most of the rest of the apartment in semi-darkness. The gloomy
faces of the men and women whose pictures hung upon the walls were
almost invisible. The servants them