brutal
laziness. I want to take up art and understand a little of what it
really matters."

"You have it in you. Are you writing any more poetry?"

"Nothing worth showing you."

She exercised the old fascination; but he indulged in no hope of the
future. He knew what her husband had been to Mary, despite the shortness
of their union; and, rightly, he felt positive that she would never
marry again.

A mournful spectacle appeared, drawn by the sound of well-known voices,
and the old spaniel, Prince, crept to Mary's feet. He offered feeble
homage, and she made much of him, but the dog had sunk to a shadow.

"He must be put away, poor old beggar; it's cruel to keep him alive.
Only Masters said he was determined he should not go while Uncle Walter
was abroad. Masters has been a mother to him."

"Tell father that; he may blame Masters for letting him linger on like
this. He rather hoped, I know, that poor Prince would be painlessly
destroyed, or die, before he came back."

"Masters would never have let him die unless directed to do so."

"And I'm sure father could never have written the words down and posted
them. You know father."

Letters awaited the returned travellers, one from Colonel Vane, who
described his meeting with Signor Mannetti, and hoped something
might come of it; and another from the stranger himself. He expressed
satisfaction at his invitation, and proposed arriving at Chadlands on
the following Monday, unless directions reached him to the contrary.

When the time came, Sir Walter himself went into Exeter to meet his
guest and bring him back by motor-car. At first sight of the signor, his
host experienced a slight shock of astonishment to mark the Italian's
age. For Vergilio Mannetti was an ancient man. He had been tall, but
now stooped, and, though not decrepit, yet he needed assistance, and
was accompanied and attended by a middle-aged Italian. The traveller
displayed a distinguished bearing. He had a brown, clean-shaved face,
the skin of which appeared to have shrunk rather than wrinkled, yet no
suggestion of a mummy accompanied this physical accident. His hair was
still plentiful, and white as snow; his dark eyes were undimmed, and
proved not only brilliant but wonderfully keen. He told them more
than once, and indeed proved, that behind large glasses, that lent an
owl-like expression to his face, his long sight was unimpaired. His
rather round face sparkled with intelligence and humor.

He