ng load of cut glass and silver and
scarlet flowers, caught something in Esther's eyes, so rarely expressive
of any emotion whatever, which puzzled him. He looked swiftly back at
his host. Mr. Fentolin's face, at that moment, was like a beautiful
cameo. His expression was one of gentle benevolence.

"Let me be quite frank with you," Mr. Fentolin murmured. "My occupation
of the Tower is one of these hobbies. I love to sit there within a few
yards of the sea and watch the tide come in. I catch something of the
spirit, I think, which caught your father, Mr. Hamel, and kept him a
prisoner here. In my small way I, too, paint while I am down there,
paint and dream. These things may not appeal to you, but you must
remember that there are few things left to me in life, and that those,
therefore, which I can make use of, are dear to me. Gerald, you are
silent to-night. How is it that you say nothing?"

"I am tired, sir," the boy answered quietly.

Mr. Fentolin nodded gravely.

"It is inexcusable of me," he declared smoothly, "to have forgotten even
for a moment. My nephew, Mr. Hamel," he went on, "had quite an exciting
experience last night--or rather a series of experiences. He was first
of all in a railway accident, and then, for the sake of a poor fellow
who was with him and who was badly hurt, he motored back here in the
grey hours of the morning and ran, they tell me, considerable risk
of being drowned on the marshes. A very wonderful and praiseworthy
adventure, I consider it. I trust that our friend up-stairs, when he
recovers, will be properly grateful."

Gerald rose to his feet precipitately. The service of dinner was almost
concluded, and he muttered something which sounded like an excuse. Mr.
Fentolin, however, stretched out his hand and motioned him to resume his
seat.

"My dear Gerald!" he exclaimed reprovingly. "You would leave us so
abruptly? Before your sister, too! What will Mr. Hamel think of our
country ways? Pray resume your seat."

For a moment the boy stood quite still, then he slowly subsided into
his chair. Mr. Fentolin passed around a decanter of wine which had been
placed upon the table by the butler. The servants had now left the room.

"You must excuse my nephew, if you please, Mr. Hamel," he begged.
"Gerald has a boy's curious aversion to praise in any form. I am looking
forward to hearing your verdict upon my port. The collection of wine and
pictures was a hobby of my grandfather's, for whic