at a funny place!" Cynthia insisted. "A round tower, like a
Martello tower, only smaller, of course; and what looks just like an
ordinary cottage or small farm-house joined on to it. What could the
tower have been for?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Origin lost in the mists of antiquity! An old
gentleman named Saffron lives there now."

"A patient of yours, Mary?"

"Oh, no! He's well off, rich, I believe. So he belongs to Dr. Irechester.
But I often meet him along the road. Lately there's always been a younger
man with him, a companion, or secretary, or something of that sort, I
hear he is."

"There are two men coming along the road now."

"Yes, that's them, the old man, and his friend. He's rather striking
to look at."

"Which of them?"

"The old man, of course. I haven't looked at the secretary. Cynthia, I
believe you're beginning to feel a little better!"

"Oh, no, I'm not! I'm afraid I'm not, really!" But there had been a
cheerfully roguish little smile on her face. It vanished very promptly
when observed.

The two men approached them, on their way, no doubt, to Tower Cottage.
The old man was not above middle height, indeed, scarcely reached it; but
he made the most of his inches carrying himself very upright, with an air
of high dignity. Close-cut white hair showed under an old-fashioned
peaked cap; he wore a plaid shawl swathed round him, his left arm being
enveloped in its folds; his right rested in the arm of his companion, who
was taller than he, lean and loose-built, clad in an almost white (and
very unseasonable looking) suit of some homespun material. He wore no
covering on his head, a thick crop of curly hair (of a color
indistinguishable in the dim light) presumably affording such protection
as he needed. His face was turned down towards the old man, who was
looking up at him and apparently talking to him, though in so low a tone
that no sound reached Mary and Cynthia as they passed by. Neither man
gave any sign of noticing their presence.

"Mr. Saffron, you said? Rather a queer name, but he looks a nice old man;
patriarchal, you know. What's the name of the other one?"

"I did hear; somebody mentioned him at the Naylors'--somebody who had
heard something about him in France. What was the name? It was something
queer too, I think."

"They've got queer names, and they live in a queer house!" Cynthia
actually gave a little laugh. "But are you going to walk all night,
Mary dear?"

"Oh, poor thing