t to the
right, facin' the toll-house. You'll see his sign, 'W. Dendle, Block
and Pump Manufacturer.' There's a flight o' steps leadin' 'ee slap
into his workshop."

The passenger set his band-box down on the cobbles between his ankles
and counted out the fare.

"I'll be goin' back to-night. Is there any reduction on a return
journey?"

"No, sir; 'tisn' the rule, an' us can't begin to cheapen the fee wi'
a man o' your inches."

The stranger apparently disliked levity. He stared at Boutigo,
picked up his band-box, and strode down the street without more
words.

By the red and yellow board opposite the tollhouse he paused for a
moment or two in the sunshine, as if to rehearse the speech with
which he meant to open his business. A woman passed him with a child
in her arms, and turned her head to stare. The stranger looked up
and caught her eye.

"That's Dendle's shop down the steps," she said, somewhat confused at
being caught.

"Thank you: I know."

He turned in at the doorway and began to descend. The noise of
persistent hammering echoed within the workshop at his feet.
A workman came out into the yard, carrying a plank.

"Is William Dendle here?"

The man looked up and pointed at the quay-door, which stood open,
with threads of light wavering over its surface. Beyond it, against
an oblong of green water, rocked a small yacht's mast.

"He's down on the yacht there. Shall I say you want en?"

"No." The stranger stepped to the quay-door and looked down the
ladder. On the deck below him stood a man about his own age and
proportions, fitting a block. His flannel shirt hung loosely about a
magnificent pair of shoulders, and was tucked up at the sleeves,
about the bulge of his huge forearms. He wore no cap, and as he
stooped the light wind puffed back his hair, which was grey and fine.

"Hi, there--William Dendle!"

"Hullo!" The man looked up quickly.

"Can you spare a word? Don't trouble to come up--I'll climb down to
you."

He went down the ladder carefully, hugging the band-box in his left
arm.

"You disremember me, I dessay," he began, as he stood on the yacht's
deck.

"Well, I do, to be sure. Oughtn't to, though, come to look on your
size."

"Samuel Badgery's my name. You an' me had a hitch to wrestlin',
once, over to Tregarrick feast."

"Why, o' course. I mind your features now, though 'tis forty years
since. We was standards there an' met i' the last round, an' I got