assured me that the man was a stranger.

He wore a suit of black, and a soft hat of Panama straw with a broad
brim, and held in his hand a something strange to me, and, indeed, as
yet almost unknown in England--an umbrella. It had a dusky white
covering, and he held it by the middle, as though he had been engaged
in taking measurements with it when my entrance surprised him.

It appeared to me for the moment that I had not only surprised him
but frightened him, for the face he turned to me wore a yellowish
pallor like that of old ivory. Yet when he drew himself up and
spoke, I seemed to know in an instant that this was his natural
colour. The face itself was large and fleshy, with bold, commanding
features: a face, on second thoughts, impossible to connect with
terror.

"Hallo, little boy! What are you doing in this garden?"

I answered him, stammering, that I was come to bathe; and while I
answered I was still in two minds about running; for his voice,
appearance, bearing, all alike puzzled me. He spoke genially, with
something foreign in his accent. I could not determine his age at
all. At first glance he seemed to be quite an old man, and not only
old but weary; yet he walked without a stoop, and as he came slowly
across the turf to the bridge-end I saw that his hair was black and
glossy, and his large face unwrinkled as a child's.

"Not after the plums, eh?"

"No, sir; and besides," said I, picking up my courage, "there's no
harm if I am. The garden belongs to me."

"So?" He regarded me for some seconds, his hands clasping the
umbrella behind his back. The sight of the bundle of black clothes I
carried apparently satisfied him. "Then you have right to ask
what brings me here. I answer, curiosity. What became of the man
who did it?" he asked, with a glance over his shoulder towards the
summer-house.

"Nobody knows, sir," I answered, recovering myself.

"Disappeared, hey?"

"Yes, sir."

"I fancy I could put my hand on him," he said very coolly, after a
pause. And I began to think I had to deal with a madman.

"Suppose, now, that I do catch him," he went on after a pause.
"What shall I do with him? In my country--for I live a great way
off--we either choke a murderer or cut off his head with a knife."

I told him--since he waited for me to say something--how in England
we disposed of our worst criminals.

"No, you don't," said he quietly. "You let some of the worst go, and
the very