own mind by then. And meanwhile, dear Esther, would it be wise,
I wonder, to see a little less of our friend Mr. Hamel? He leaves us
to-day, I think. He is very obstinate about that. If he were staying
still in the house, well, it might be different. But if he persists in
leaving us, you will not forget, dear, that association with a guest
is one thing; association with a young man living out of the house is
another. A great deal less of Mr. Hamel I think that we must see."

She made no reply whatever. Hamel was coming now towards them.

"Really a very personable young man," Mr. Fentolin remarked, studying
him through his eyeglass. "Is it my fancy, I wonder, as an observant
person, or is he just a little--just a little taken with you, Esther? A
pity if it is so--a great pity."

She said nothing, but her hand which rested upon the rug was trembling a
little.

"If you have an opportunity," Mr. Fentolin suggested, dropping his
voice, "you might very delicately, you know--girls are so clever at that
sort of thing-convey my views to Mr. Hamel as regards his leaving us and
its effect upon your companionship. You understand me, I am sure?"

For the first time she turned her head towards him.

"I understand," she said, "that you have some particular reason for not
wishing Mr. Hamel to leave St. David's Hall."

He smiled benignly.

"You do my hospitable impulses full justice, dear Esther," he declared.
"Sometimes I think that you understand me almost as well as your dear
mother. If, by any chance, Mr. Hamel should change his mind as to taking
up his residence at the Tower, I think you would not find me in any
sense of the word an obdurate or exacting guardian. Come along, Mr.
Hamel. That seat opposite to us is quite comfortable. You see, I resign
myself to the inevitable. I have come to fetch golfers home to luncheon,
and I compose myself to listen. Which of you will begin the epic of
missed putts and brassey shots which failed by a foot to carry?"

CHAPTER XXIV

Hamel sat alone upon the terrace, his afternoon coffee on a small table
in front of him. His eyes were fixed upon a black speck at the end of
the level roadway which led to the Tower. Only a few minutes before, Mr.
Fentolin, in his little carriage, had shot out from the passage beneath
the terrace, on his way to the Tower. Behind him came Meekins, bending
over his bicycle. Hamel watched them both with thoughtful eyes. There
were several little incidents