ect that I met Joseph and you know William," I said.

"But I left William in charge here."

"And I found Joseph."

"Then where is William?"

"William is the missing link. Find him, and we get to the bottom of the
matter."

"Yes, that sounds common sense. Now, where is William?"

That was by no means an easy question to answer. Mr. Joseph Scorer could
probably have told us, but as the discovery of William was but the first
step towards the discovery of Joseph, that fact did not advance us.

The puzzle, however, solved itself in the simplest manner possible, and
without any assistance from us.

As there was a spare bedroom in the cottage, the least we could do was
to put it at Mr. Sawyer's disposal if he cared to make use of it. So we
invited Mr. Sawyer to occupy it for a day or two, and he consented to do
so, and turned out to be a very pleasant and genial companion.

The tide next morning did not serve well for bathing till about an hour
after breakfast. Then Sawyer and I and some of the youngsters went in.

It was one of those absolutely still mornings when the water is as
smooth as oil, and you can hear the beat of the steamers' paddles miles
away, and when you shout it is like shouting inside a bell.

We were all swimming and paddling about, enjoying ourselves immensely,
when I saw the three little fat pugs and the three old ladies coming
along the beach path to take their regular wistful morning look at the
cottage, where they ought to have been living, and were not.

Then from behind the cottage came a great tumult--the noise of many
voices, mingled with groans and laughter, and there swept round the side
of it a mob of people, who came to a stand on the little green plot in
front.

We were still wondering what was the meaning of it, when Amelia Blatt,
our servant, came tearing down the sands towards us, holding on to her
square inch of cap with one hand, and to her flying skirts with the
other.

"They want you up there," she panted.

"Who are they, and what do they want?"

"It's all them folks he let the house to, and they've got 'im----"

And as we made for the shore, Amelia, who was a very modest girl, fled
precipitately up the slope.

"Hey, Milly!" I shouted, "bring us down a couple of those big bath
towels."

[Illustration: "'THEY WANT YOU UP THERE,' SHE PANTED."]

Amelia made no answer, but presently the big bath-towels met us under
the arms of a small boy. We twisted our ordinary tow