,
and they sheered off, looking daggers, and muttering what sounded like
curses.

The man who carried the organ was of the usual type--short, thick-set,
hairy, and unwashed. His companion, rather to my surprise, was just the
reverse--tall, shapely, well set up, and comparatively well clad; and with
his dark eyes, black mustache, broad-brimmed hat, and red tie loosely
knotted round his brawny throat, he looked decidedly picturesque.

On the following day, as I was going to the stables (which were a few
hundred yards below the house) I found my picturesque Italian in the back
garden, singing a barcarole to the accompaniment of a guitar. But as he
had complied with the condition of which I had informed him, I made no
objection. So far from that I gave him a shilling, and as the maids (who
were greatly taken with his appearance) got up a collection for him and
gave him a feed, he did not do badly.

A few days later, while out riding, I called at the station for an evening
paper, and there he was again, "touching his guitar," and singing
something that sounded very sentimental.

"That fellow is like a bad shilling," I said to one of the
porters--"always turning up."

"He is never away. I think he must have taken it into his head to live
here."

"What does he do?"

"Oh, he just hangs about, and watches the trains, as if he had never seen
any before. I suppose there are none in the country he comes from. Between
whiles he sometimes plays on his banjo and sings a bit for us. I cannot
quite make him out; but as he is very quiet and well-behaved, and never
interferes with nobody, it is no business of mine."

Neither was it any business of mine; so after buying my paper I dismissed
the subject from my mind and rode on to Kingscote.

As a rule, I found the morning papers quite as much as I could struggle
with; but at this time a poisoning case was being tried which interested
me so much that while it lasted I sent for or fetched an evening paper
every afternoon. The day after my conversation with the porter I adopted
the former course, the day after that I adopted the latter, and, contrary
to my usual practice, I walked.

There were two ways from Kingscote to the station; one by the road, the
other by a little-used footpath. I went by the road, and as I was buying
my paper at Smith's bookstall the station-master told me that Mr.
Fortescue had returned by a train which came in about ten minutes
previously.

"He must b