h no fault of ours, and did our best to make
her comfortable.

When young Oxford saw her they were with difficulty restrained from
chairing her to an hotel, and on the whole I think, when the first
annoyance had passed off, she rather enjoyed herself.

By Saturday night we had repelled sixteen different attempts on our
tenancy of Sandybank Cottage and, by this time, if a single day, except
Sunday, had passed without the arrival of one or more claimants we would
have begun to suspect something had gone wrong.

There was one thing, however, that puzzled me exceedingly, and no amount
of thoughtful consideration of the subject cast any light upon it. What
on earth had made Mr. Joseph Scorer act in this way? If he had let the
cottage in the usual manner he could have made at least L22 or L23 all
told in the two months. As it was I reckoned he had made about L37 by
his monstrous duplicity, and it was the utter inadequacy of the plunder
which puzzled me so much.

Why would a man want to hang sixteen indictments for fraud around his
neck for such a very small reward? It seemed inconceivable, especially
in such a smart and far-seeing man as Mr. Joseph Scorer. It was the
action of a fool; and whatever else he was, Mr. Joseph Scorer could
hardly be called a fool, except in this one point of utter inadequacy of
motive.

[Illustration: "WE FOUND A GENTLEMAN SITTING ON THE BENCH."]

However, my eyes were to be opened, and in a somewhat unpleasant
fashion--the process is not, as a rule, an enjoyable one.

On Sunday the 29th, being the third Sunday of our visit, when we
returned from church and the usual augmented Sabbath meeting of
malcontents on the pier, we found a gentleman sitting on the bench in
the porch awaiting our arrival.

Sunday had hitherto been an off day with us, and we rather resented this
infraction of the rules of the game.

I went up to him and addressed him somewhat curtly.

"Well, sir, and what can I do for you?"

He looked at me whimsically, and said--

"Your name is Oxenham?"

"It is."

"Mine is Sawyer."

"Not Mr. William Henry Sawyer, Esquire, of the Home Office?"

"Yes," he said, smiling at the evidently recognised formula.

"I understood you only came down in May and October."

"So I do generally; but, seeing that the cottage is mine, I suppose I
have the privilege of coming whenever I choose."

"The cottage is yours?" I said, in surprise.

"Undoubtedly. I bought it and its contents f