away.

"Who the devil is that chap?" he whispered to Cecil. "I'll swear I've
seen him somewhere."

"Very likely," Cecil answered wearily, throwing himself down on the
turf. "I've no memory for faces."

Jeanne had stepped into the cottage, and gave a little cry of delight
as she found herself in a small sitting-room, the walls of which were
lined with books and guns and fishing-tackle.

"What a delightful room, Mr. Andrew!" she exclaimed. "Why--"

She paused and looked up at him, a little mystified.

"Do the fishermen in Norfolk read Shakespeare and Keats?" she asked.
"And French books, too, De Maupassant and De Musset?"

"They are my lodger's," Andrew answered. "This is his room. I sit in
the kitchen when I am at home."

His dialect was more marked than ever, and his answer had been
delivered without any hesitation. Nevertheless, Jeanne was still a
little puzzled.

"May I come into the kitchen, please?" she asked.

"Certainly," he answered. "You will find Mr. Berners' servant there
getting tea ready."

Jeanne peeped in, and looked back at Andrew, who was standing behind
her.

"What a lovely stone floor!" she exclaimed. "And your copper kettle,
too, is delightful! Do you mean that when you have not a lodger here,
you cook and do everything for yourself?"

"There are times," he answered composedly, "when I have a little
assistance. It depends upon whether the fishing season has been good."

Berners came in, and threw himself into an easychair in the
sitting-room.

"Make what use you like of my man, Andrew," he said. "I will have a cup
of tea in here afterwards."

"I'm very much obliged, sir," Andrew answered.

The Princess called out to him, and he stepped back once more to where
they were all sitting.

"It is a shame," she said, "that we drive your lodger away from his
seat. Will you not ask him to take tea with us?"

"I am afraid," Andrew answered, "that he is not a very sociable person.
He has come down here because he wants a complete rest, and he does not
speak to any one unless he is obliged. He has just asked me to have his
tea sent into his room."

"Where does he come from, this strange man?" the Princess asked. "It is
all the time in my mind that I have met him somewhere. I am sure that
he is one of us."

"I believe that he lives in London," Andrew answered, "and his name is
Berners, Mr. Richard Berners."

"I do not seem to remember the name," the Princess remarked, "but the
man's