t if I wanted to
read or write, I should be comfortable in my retirement. On hearing
that, I begged him to countermand any such luxuries on my account in
future; it was my invariable habit, I assured him, to retire to bed at
ten o'clock, wherever I was--reading or writing at night, I said,
were practices which I rigidly tabooed. Mr. Cazalette, who stood by,
grimly listening, nodded approval.

"Wise lad!" he said. "That's another reason why I'm what I am. Don't
let any mistake be made about it!--the old saw, much despised and
laughed at though it is, has more in it than anybody thinks for. Get
to your pillow early, and leave it early!--that's the sure thing."

"I don't think I should like to get up as early as you do, though,"
remarked Mr. Raven. "You certainly don't give the worms much chance!"

"Aye, and I've caught a few in my time," assented the old gentleman,
complacently. "And I hope to catch a few more yet. You folk who don't
get up till the morning's half over don't know what you miss."

I slept soundly that night--a strange bed and unfamiliar surroundings
affect me not at all. Just as suddenly as I had dropped asleep, I
woke. My windows face due east--I was instantly aware that the sun had
either risen or was just about to rise. Springing out of bed and
drawing up the blind of one of the three tall, narrow windows of my
room, I saw him mounting behind a belt of pine and fir which stretched
along a bluff of land that ran down to the open sea. And I saw, too,
that it was high tide--the sea had stolen up the creek which ran right
to the foot of the park, and the wide expanse of water glittered and
coruscated in the brilliance of the morning glory.

My watch lay on the dressing-table close by; glancing at it, I saw
that the time was twenty-five minutes to seven. I had been told that
the family breakfasted at nine, so I had nearly two-and-a-half hours
of leisure. Of course, I would go out, and enjoy the freshness of the
morning. I turned to the window again, just to take another view of
the scenery in front of the house, and to decide in which direction I
would go. And there, emerging from a wicket-gate that opened out of an
adjacent plantation, I caught sight of Mr. Cazalette.

It was evident that this robust octogenarian had been taking that
morning swim of which Miss Raven had told me the previous evening. He
was muffled up in an old pea-jacket; various towels were festooned
about his shoulders; his bald hea