house after lunch, if you wish,"
was what he said.

"I should be glad," returned Colwyn. "But I am reluctant to put Miss
Heredith to the trouble."

"Do not think of that," responded Phil. "My aunt desires nothing better
than to show the old place to anybody she likes. And she has taken a
liking to you."

"It is very good of her. I shall be pleased to accept her offer, for I
wish to see over the house as soon as possible."

They had started to descend the stairs. Colwyn, happening to glance over
the balusters, saw the motionless figure of Tufnell standing at the
bottom of the staircase partly concealed by the group of ornamental
shrubs in the hall. His face was turned upwards with an aspect of
strained curiosity, but it was immediately withdrawn as his eyes
encountered Colwyn's downward gaze. A moment later Colwyn saw him enter
the dining-room.

When they reached the foot of the staircase, Colwyn, with an explanatory
glance at his soiled hands and dusty clothes, promised to join the
luncheon party in a few minutes. He went to his own room for a hasty
toilet, and when he descended a few minutes later he again saw Tufnell
in the hall. The butler, who was giving a direction to a servant, met
his eye calmly, and hastened to open the dining-room door for him.

There was more conversation at luncheon than at the morning meal. The
weight of senility relaxed from Sir Philip sufficiently to permit him to
talk to his guest with some brightness. He told Colwyn a story of a
seagoing ancestor of his who had entertained the Royal Family in his own
frigate at Portsmouth in honour of Sir Horatio Nelson's victory of the
Nile, and how the occasion had tempted the cupidity of his own fellow to
make a nefarious penny by permitting the rabble of the town to take
peeps at the guests through one of the port-holes. It happened that one
Jack Tar, eager to gaze on his idol Nelson, got his head jammed in the
port-hole, and broke up the party with a volley of terrible oaths and
roars for assistance. "The servant's name was Egg--Dick Egg, but he was
a bad egg," chuckled Sir Philip, as he concluded the narrative. He
repeated the poor joke several times in manifest appreciation.

Miss Heredith did not smile at the story. She deprecated anything which
had the slightest tendency to cast ridicule on the family name. That was
made abundantly clear after the meal, when Sir Philip had retired to his
room for his afternoon nap, and the others went ov