the marsh below. To those on the
lower ground there was nothing visible to cause his agitation.

"What was that lunatic up to, and what was he howling about?" asked
Reggie as the train disappeared round a curve.

"It sounded like 'the face of a fool,' so far as I could make out," Enid
laughed.

"I don't think it was that," said Violet Maynard, who, with Leslie and
Mr. Mallory in attendance, had come up behind them. "It struck me that
the excited passenger's cry was more like 'the face in the pool.'"

"That was it, I expect," said Reggie lightly. "He must have seen the
reflection of his own in one of those puddles of tidal water. That was
the Ottermouth section of the London corridor express, which has a
luncheon car attached. The Johnny had probably been indulging too freely
in the conveniences of modern travel."

Mr. Mallory said nothing. He was inwardly asking himself why Leslie
Chermside, who, though obviously forcing himself to do so under intense
nervous strain, had been pleasantly chatting all the way from the Manor
House, should have suddenly turned pale, fiercely biting his underlip
with strong white teeth.

CHAPTER VII

THE FACE IN THE POOL

Discussion as to the exact words of the cry from the train was cut short
by a general adjournment to the tables, where for the next half-hour the
guests did justice to their host's lavish hospitality. Mountains of
sun-kissed peaches from the warm walls of the Manor gardens, gallons of
fruit-salad and cakes in bewildering variety disappeared as by magic.
The little green oasis at the brink of the marshes rang with laughter,
presently blended with the strains of a small but select string band
from London, hidden in a secluded nook behind the sheltering elms.

But if the episode of the excited passenger was generally forgotten it
only remained in abeyance so far at least as the memory of one of Mr.
Maynard's guests was concerned. It was not necessary for a man of Mr.
Vernon Mallory's age to plead an excuse for an early desertion of the
"aids to indigestion," as he called them, and he lighted a cigar and
went off for a solitary stroll. Travers Nugent paused for a moment in
his entertainment of a cluster of ladies to send a thoughtful glance
after the tall, spare figure of the retired civil servant, and a curious
gleam flitted over his inscrutable features. It could not have been
wholly caused by dissatisfaction, for he resumed his amusing persiflage
with enh