o sit here," he went on, "and I am
going to look across the sea and reflect. A very fortunate storm, after
all, I think, which kept Mr. John P. Dunster from the Harwich boat last
night. Leave me, Gerald, for a time. Stand behind my chair, Meekins, and
see that no one enters."

Mr. Fentolin sat in his chair, his hands still gripping the wonderful
document, his eyes travelling over the ocean now flecked with sunlight.
His eyes were fixed upon the horizon. He looked steadily eastward.

CHAPTER VI

Mr. John P. Dunster opened his eyes upon strange surroundings. He found
himself lying upon a bed deliciously soft, with lace-edged sheets and
lavender-perfumed bed hangings. Through the discreetly opened upper
window came a pleasant and ozone-laden breeze. The furniture in the
room was mostly of an old-fashioned type, some of it of oak, curiously
carved, and most of it surmounted with a coat of arms. The apartment was
lofty and of almost palatial proportions. The whole atmosphere of the
place breathed comfort and refinement. The only thing of which he did
not wholly approve was the face of the nurse who rose silently to her
feet at his murmured question:

"Where am I?"

She felt his forehead, altered a bandage for a moment, and took his
wrist between her fingers.

"You have been ill," she said. "There was a railway accident. You are to
lie quite still and not say a word. I am going to fetch the doctor now.
He wished to see you directly you spoke."

Mr. Dunster dozed again for several moments. When he reopened his eyes,
a man was standing by his bedside, a short man with a black beard
and gold-rimmed glasses. Mr. Dunster, in this first stage of his
convalescence, was perhaps difficult to please, for he did not like the
look of the doctor, either.

"Please tell me where I am?" he begged.

"You have been in a railway accident," the doctor told him, "and you
were brought here afterwards."

"In a railway accident," Mr. Dunster repeated. "Ah, yes, I remember! I
took a special to Harwich--I remember now. Where is my dressing-bag?"

"It is here by the side of your bed."

"And my pocket-book?"

"It is on your dressing-table."

"Have any of my things been looked at?"

"Only so far as was necessary to discover your identity," the doctor
assured him. "Don't talk too much. The nurse is bringing you some beef
tea."

"When," Mr. Dunster enquired, "shall I be able to continue my journey?"

"That depends upon many thing