n touched only upon the
game. On the last green he suffered defeat and acknowledged it with a
little grimace.

"If I might say so, Miss Fentolin," he protested, "you are a little too
good for your handicap. I used to play a very reasonable scratch myself,
but I can't give you the strokes."

She smiled.

"Doubtless your long absence abroad," she began slowly, "has affected
your game."

"I was round in eighty-one," he grumbled.

"You must have travelled in many countries," she continued, "where golf
was an impossibility."

"Naturally," he admitted. "Let us stay and have lunch and try again."

She shook her head with a little sigh of regret.

"You see, the car is waiting," she pointed out. "We are expected home. I
shan't be a minute putting my clubs away."

They sped swiftly along the level road towards St. David's Hall. Far
in the distance they saw it, built upon that strange hill, with the
sunlight flashing in its windows. He looked at it long and curiously.

"I think," he said, "that yours is the most extraordinarily situated
house I have ever seen. Fancy a gigantic mound like that in the midst of
an absolutely flat marsh."

She nodded.

"There is no other house quite like it in England," she said. "I suppose
it is really a wonderful place. Have you looked at the pictures?"

"Not carefully," he told her.

"You must before you leave," she insisted. "Mr. Fentolin is a great
judge, and so was his father."

Their road curved a little to the sea, and at its last bend they were
close to the pebbly ridge on which the Tower was built. He touched the
electric bell and stopped the car.

"Do let us walk along and have a look at my queer possession once more,"
he begged. "Luncheon, you told me, is not till half-past one, and it is
a quarter to now."

She hesitated for a moment and then assented. They left the car and
walked along the little track, bordered with white posts, which led on
to the ridge. To their right was the village, separated from them only
by one level stretch of meadowland; in the background, the hall. They
turned along the raised dike just inside the pebbly beach, and she
showed her companion the narrow waterway up to the village. At its
entrance was a tall iron upright, with a ladder attached and a great
lamp at the top.

"That is to show them the way in at night, isn't it?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Yes," she told him. "Mr. Fentolin had it placed there. And yet," she
went on, "curious