ced, after a brief pause, "it is my
somewhat painful duty to tell you that we have decided to stop your
daily supply of bread and water. You thrive too well on it."

"Just as you like," was the careless rejoinder. "I can do with or
without food."

The Marquis contemplated his guest for several moments in silence.

"You will permit me to say, Mr. Pratt, that your courage moves me to
the profoundest admiration," he declared at last. "I trust that after
this little business negotiation is concluded, I shall have the
privilege of your friendship for many years to come."

"You're rather boring me," Jacob told him mildly. "I want to get on
with my initials. I'm doing them in Old English."

"I should be sorry to interfere with so courteous a duty," the Marquis
replied--and departed.

CHAPTER XXII

From that time onward, notwithstanding Jacob's unbroken composure,
time began to hang heavily. Towards evening, he pulled up one of his
strings and found sandwiches and whisky enough to keep him going. He
received no more visitors, friendly or otherwise, and he listened in
vain until nightfall for the sound of Lady Mary's boat. In the
morning, however, he was awakened early by the sound of her whistle
below. The room was half full of grey mist. Leaning out of the
aperture, he could scarcely distinguish her form as she stood up in
the boat, and in the distance he could hear foghorns from passing
steamers blowing.

"How are you?" she asked anxiously.

"Right as a trivet," he assured her. "Wish I had a mirror, though, to
see how I look in a beard."

She scrutinised his appearance and laughed softly, balancing herself
easily against the oar which she had stretched out to the side of the
tower. The moisture of the sea was upon her face and hair. A very
becoming _peignoir_ imperfectly concealed her bathing dress.

"I never realised before what a spick-and-span person you were," she
observed. "You are beginning to look a little dishevelled, aren't you?
Would you really like me to bring you a mirror and some shaving
things?"

"Are you beginning to make fun of me?" he asked, leaning a little
farther out.

She shook her head, and he realised suddenly that there was a note of
tragedy underneath her assumed cheerfulness. He went on talking
desperately, trying not to notice the quiver of her lips.

"Because if you are I shall slip down and do my famous dive act. I
don't believe in your sunken rocks."

"I forbid you to