was hot and
close, in spite of the packed clouds. As they were opening the bottle, I
inquired casually the way to the Red Gap bathing-place.

The landlord gave me directions which confused me worse than ever,
ending at last with the concise remark: "An' then, zur, two or dree more
turns to the right an' to the left 'ull bring 'ee right up alongzide o'
ut."

I despaired of finding the way by these unintelligible sailing-orders;
but just at that moment, as luck would have it, another cyclist flew
past--the first soul I had seen on the road that morning. He was a man
with the loose-knit air of a shop assistant, badly got up in a
rather loud and obtrusive tourist suit of brown homespun, with baggy
knickerbockers and thin thread stockings. I judged him a gentleman on
the cheap at sight. "Very Stylish; this Suit Complete, only thirty-seven
and sixpence!" The landlady glanced out at him with a friendly nod. He
turned and smiled at her, but did not see me; for I stood in the shade
behind the half-open door. He had a short black moustache and a not
unpleasing, careless face. His features, I thought, were better than his
garments.

However, the stranger did not interest me just then I was far too full
of more important matters. "Why don't 'ee taake an' vollow thik ther
gen'leman, zur?" the landlady said, pointing one large red hand after
him. "Ur do go down to Urd Gap to zwim every marnin'. Mr. Jan Smith, o'
Oxford, they do call un. 'Ee can't go wrong if 'ee do vollow un to the
Gap. Ur's lodgin' up to wold Varmer Moore's, an' ur's that vond o' the
zay, the vishermen do tell me, as wasn't never any gen'leman like un."

I tossed off my ginger-beer, jumped on to my machine, and followed
the retreating brown back of Mr. John Smith, of Oxford--surely a most
non-committing name--round sharp corners and over rutty lanes, tire-deep
in mud, across the rusty-red moor, till, all at once, at a turn, a gap
of stormy sea appeared wedge-shape between two shelving rock-walls.

It was a lonely spot. Rocks hemmed it in; big breakers walled it. The
sou'-wester roared through the gap. I rode down among loose stones and
water-worn channels in the solid grit very carefully. But the man in
brown had torn over the wild path with reckless haste, zigzagging madly,
and was now on the little three-cornered patch of beach, undressing
himself with a sort of careless glee, and flinging his clothes down
anyhow on the shingle beside him. Something about th