than mine. You see the
road there? Look along it, between the white posts, as far as you can.
What do you make of that black speck?"

Hamel held the telescope to his eye and steadied it upon the little
tripod stand.

"It looks like a horse and trap," he announced. "Good!" Mr. Fentolin
declared. "It seemed so to me, but I was not sure. My eyes are weak this
afternoon. How many people are in the trap?"

"Two," Hamel answered. "I can see them distinctly now. One man is
driving, another is sitting by his side. They are coming this way."

Mr. Fentolin blew his whistle. Meekins appeared almost directly. His
master whispered a word in his ear. The man at once departed.

"Let me make use of your eyes once more," Mr. Fentolin begged. "About
these two men in the trap, Mr. Hamel. Is one of them, by any chance,
wearing a uniform?"

"They both are," Hamel replied. "The man who is driving is wearing a
peaked hat. He looks like a police inspector. The man by his side is an
ordinary policeman."

Mr. Fentolin sighed gently.

"It is very interesting," he said. "Let us hope that we shall not see an
arrest under my roof. I should feel it a reflection upon my hospitality.
I trust, I sincerely trust, that this visit does not bode any harm to
Mr. John P. Dunster."

Gerald rose impatiently to his feet and swung across the terrace. Mr.
Fentolin, however, called him back.

"Gerald," he advised, "better not go away. The inspector may desire to
ask you questions. You will have nothing to conceal. It was a natural
and delightful impulse of yours to bring the man who had befriended you,
and who was your companion in that disaster, straight to your own home
for treatment and care. It was an admirable impulse, my boy. You have
nothing to be ashamed of."

"Shall I tell him, too--" Gerald began.

"Be careful, Gerald."

Mr. Fentolin's words seemed to be charged with a swift, rapier-like
note. The boy broke off in his speech. He looked at Hamel and was
silent.

"Dear me," Mrs. Fentolin murmured, "I am sure there is no need for us
to talk about this poor man as though anybody had done anything wrong
in having him here. This, I suppose, must be the Inspector Yardley whom
Lord Saxthorpe spoke of."

"A very intelligent-looking officer, I am sure," Mr. Fentolin remarked.
"Gerald, go and meet him, if you please. I should like to speak to him
out here."

The dog-cart had drawn up at the front door, and the inspector had
already alighted. G