The Adventures of Romney Pringle/The Lizard's Scale

OU'LL have to ground-bait very carefully," said the chatty old gentleman. "You won't do much with the roach unless you do. I found them quite off yesterday."

"Which is the best Broad for the fishing?" inquired Pringle as he reached across the table for the coffee.

"Pike! ah, poor sport just now," was the irrelevant reply. "No good before September."

Pringle repeated his question.

"Eh? Yes, I'm on my way back to Stanlowe after breakfast. Sorry I didn't hear you. I've gone rather deaf since I saw you last, and I can't find my conversation-tube this morning."

Since he first took his seat at the table, the deaf one had treated Pringle with a cordiality unusual, to say the least of it, between total strangers, and it began to dawn upon him that the old gentleman mistook him for some one else. Mr. Pringle, having turned his back on the shadowy literary agency which he professed in Furnival's Inn, had been bronzing his fair complexion for the last few days in the East Anglian sun. The fishing had proved disappointing, although the yachting had afforded some slender compensation, and the quietude of the little inn was not distasteful to a town-dweller.

"Have I had the pleasure of meeting you before?" roared Pringle, as politely as the elevation of his voice permitted.

"Windrush? I've not seen him for a week or so. He was asking if I had heard anything of you the last time I went over."

He was certainly very deaf, and a connected conversation seemed hopeless.

"Who is that? I'm afraid I don't know him," Pringle vociferated in a supreme effort at disillusion.

"Oh, he's at Axford House, under Fernhurst's care, you know. I forgot you were away North at the time."

Worse and worse, thought Pringle. And, abandoning any further attempt at explanation, he contented himself with smiling and bowing, as the other continued to discourse with the loudness characteristic of the deaf.

"Yes, it was a sad business!" the old gentleman continued, "but what we should have done without Percy, I don't know. Uncharitable people might say he's making a good thing out of it; but, after all, he's John's nearest relative, and he was certainly most devoted in the way he looked after his brother. Indeed, he acted most sensibly throughout, and was entirely guided by my advice in all that he did. I must say I never cared very much for him before, and between ourselves I had regarded him as a bit of an unscrupulous adventurer, but I've quite altered my opinion of him now." He rose and collected his fishing-tackle. "You should go over and see John at Axford. It's only the fourth station beyond Stanlowe. But you ought to know the way! Tell him I shall be over next week if you do." And cordially shaking hands, the chatty old gentleman mounted a dog-cart which had been brought round to the door, and drove off.

"Who is that deaf old gentleman?" inquired Pringle of the landlord's son as he entered the bar.

"What! Dr. Toddington? Didn't yew iver see him when yew was at Thorpe Stanlowe, sir? He's gone wonful deaf, sure."

Pringle gasped. Was the whole place inhabited by lunatics, he asked himself, or had he taken leave of his senses?

"Look here," he said desperately, "I never saw that old gentleman before, and I was never at Thorpe what-d'you-call-it in my life!"

"Ain't yew Mr. Coatbridge, then?"

"Certainly not!" Pringle repudiated.

"Sars o' mine! Noo I come te look at yew I see he hain't got that there mark on the cheek—beggin' yar pardon fur amentionin' it."

"But who is he?"

"He were a great friend o' Mr. Windrush."

"And who on earth is Mr. Windrush?"

"My oo'd master at Thorpe Stanlowe."

"Am I so like Mr. Coatbridge, then?"

"Like as tew peas, sir!"

Pringle remembered that on arriving at the inn he had never been asked for his name, also that he had been welcomed with effusion; facts which at the time he ascribed to the rustic simplicity of the place. "I suppose Dr. Toddington do you say his name is?—he thought I was Mr. Coatbridge, too?"

"Yes, sir! I toold him it were yew when he come here yes'day, an' he said he'd stop th' night jes' to see yew, but yew'd garn to bed any."

After all, then, mused Pringle, the chatty old gentleman was not so eccentric as he had thought. There were possibilities too in having a double!

"Does the Doctor live far away?" he asked at length.

"Up Thorpe Stanlowe, agin' th' Hall, sir. Matter o' 'leven mile from hare. Th' rain's kep' awa' wholly, sir, an' ef yew care fur a sail I could come now fawther's downd."

As they hoisted the little anchor and the sail filled, Pringle stretched his long limbs in the stern, and grasped the tiller in indolent attention to the discursive stream which flowed from the lips of the crew.

"See him theer, sir!" exclaimed the youth presently; "doon't he shine?"

The sedges rustled, shook, and then parted, as a foot or so of delicate olive-green, with a splash of yellow at the near end, shot whiplike from the bank. For a moment its lustrous belly-scales flashed in the sun, and then the snake glided gracefully into the water with a frog writhing between its powerful little jaws.

"Tropidonotos natrix," murmured Pringle with an expansive yawn.

"Iver see a fiery sarpent, sir?"

"Do you mean fireworks?"

"Noo, a rale livin' one."

"Can't say I ever did. Did you?"

"Noo. Mr. Windrush did, tho';" and hauling the sheet more aft, he sat down on the weather-gunwale, as the little craft heeled to the wind roaring in miniature hurricane across the lonely expanse of the Broad. "He were haunted by th' funniest kinds of kewerious impets an' things yew iver set eyes on, Ah! th' best master as iver breathed. I were under-gardener at Thorpe Stanlowe fur oover three yare. I were eighteen when I went theer, an' stayed till the place were broke up. Mr. Percy wanted me to stay—didn't want no truck with him! Soo's fawther were a-gettin' oo'd, an' couldn' manage th' place, I come hoome."

"Who was Mr. Percy?"

"The master's brother, leastways half-brother. Fawther married twice, they said. But he's th' master now, Ah, I'm a-wishin' it'd been him 'stids o' Mr. Windrush."

"Why, is Mr. Windrush dead?"

"Worser'n that," said the youth, shaking his head mysteriously. "Noo, things was all right afore Mr. Percy come te live 'long with th' master, but in 'bout six months Mr. Windrush went wrong in his head. Dr. Toddington said he mustn't be 'loone, soo Mr. Percy took te sleepin' in master's dressin'-room. I didn't see noo difference in him—seemed th' same kinder-spoken gen'l'man he'd always been. Howsiver, they called down 'nother doctor from Lun'on, an' I hard they took an' held a crowner's 'quest on him, for all the warl' as if he'd been dead! An' jury they said he must goo 'way to a mad'us, an' he's now at Axford. Doctor from Lon'on couldn't hev been much account anyways. I hard he thought Mr. Windrush drunk a won'ful lot, an' a soberer man niver breathed! Theer were one o' um lifted his little finger, but 't 'twasn't Mr. Windrush! Doon't I mind how oo'd Percy fell oover some rails in th' dark won night? Lork! His face were that swelled he couldn't see outer his eyes fur a week. Nex' day he took an' had th' rails a-painted with that theer whitey stuff that shines oof th' dark, an' th' keyhole a-painted, soo's he couldn't miss aseein' of it. Givin' hisself a nice character, I calls it. Ah! them tew differed as Wroxham and Barton. Oo'd Percy now'd niver take no notice o' yew 'cept he gonned yew some order or other. A'most th' only time I remember he iver did speak to me were once when Mr. Windrush were a-talkin' to me 'bout yottin', an' Percy were a-standin' by alistenin', an' a-grinnin' from are to are, an' he upped an' says I were only a fresh-water sailor, an' didn't know nothin' 'bout it—quite maliceful-like! Me, mind yew! Me as were born an' bred on th' Broads in the manner o' speakin'! Some said he'd been to sea hisself, an' I hard tell as he'd studied fur a doctor. Anyhow they said if Mr. Windrush hadn't took pity on him he'd have had to go to th' Work'us. Ah, he knowed a thing or two, did Percy."

"Yachting on the Broads for instance?" suggested Pringle slyly.

The youth snorted contemptuously. "Seems to me all he knowed an' all he didn't know'd have made a big book! Howsiver, he were a riddy kind o' chap. He were fur everlastin' 'sperimentin' with animals. Coachman's gals kep' guinea-pigs, an' they used to bring 'um to Percy when they got over-run. I hard 'um say he'd git 'um to bring all manner o' live animals; snakes like that theer, an' lizards, an' sech-like. Won day I found a pig jes' a-dyin' back o' the tuleshed, an' when I gonned it a tech, it shruck horrud! Seem'd 's if that's been shaved an' painted all over with sticky stuff. Won o' oo'd Percy's 'speriments, I thot. A'most th' only frien' he had were th' mad'us doctor fr' Axford wheer master is now. Dr. Fernhurst an' he were thick as thieves. Now th' house 'tis hired-let, an' Percy he lives up o' Lon'on. He's 'pointed to look tew th' money fur Mr. Windrush, an' lork! they've hot on th' right man fur that job!" Here the youth digressed into a chronicle of Stanlowe small-beer, and Pringle, who had been an attentive listener up to this point, fell into a reverie which lasted for the rest of the voyage.

The morning sail had given Pringle an appetite for lunch, and after a hearty meal he walked briskly to the little station and took the train to Axford. He had no difficulty in finding Dr. Fernhurst's asylum. It was a three-story Manor-house built in the prim but substantial style of Queen Anne's days, and as Pringle crossed the pleasaunce surrounding it, he noted, with the grateful eye of a connoisseur, the elaborate fanlight and the handsome pilasters which flanked the doorway supporting a pediment of chaste design. Pulling the wrought-iron bell-handle, he inquired for Mr. Windrush, and was ushered into a waiting-room. Here in a few moments he was joined by a smart young man looking like a superior valet, who introduced himself as the chief attendant of the Asylum.

"Dr. Fernhurst is out at present," he said, "but Mr. Windrush will be glad to see you if you will step this way. I believe, sir, that you are an old friend of his?"

"Not so very," replied Pringle ingenuously.

Ascending the stairs, they entered a room on the first-floor, with a cheerful outlook over a formal garden bordered with yew-trees fantastically trimmed into the shape of mushrooms, peacocks, chickens, and, in one instance, of a cup and saucer. "Mr. Windrush, here is your friend Mr. Coatbridge to see you," announced the attendant, immediately retiring and closing the door behind him. A tall, dejected-looking man, with a student's stoop and hair prematurely grey, rose hesitatingly, with an exclamation of surprise, from the chair in which he had been reading.

"Why, you're never Coatbridge!" he cried.

"Hush! Please don't speak so loudly—I have something for your private ear alone." Pringle sprang to the door and opening it, looked out for a moment, "Excuse me for this slight deception," he continued, as he resumed his seat: "I took the liberty of assuming the name of one whom I know to be your friend in order to have freer access to you."

The lunatic subsided irresolutely into his chair and began to nervously finger the leaves of the book he held. He did not attempt to read, although he kept his eyes downcast, but threw an occasional furtive glance at Pringle as he spoke. "My real name is Pringle," said that gentleman. "I live in London, and have accidentally acquired some information which leads me to think that the facts connected with your case appear to require investigation." Windrush started and opened his lips as if to speak, but he repressed the impulse and continued to listen intently. "How I got to know of it is of no immediate consequence. I have been lucky enough to find you alone, and, as we may be interrupted at any moment, we mustn't waste precious time. What I want you to understand at present is that I have come to see you with a view of extricating you from this very unpleasant position."

Still Windrush made no reply, but assuming a less constrained attitude he regarded Pringle more openly and with a shade less suspicion.

"I am inclined to think," continued Pringle, "that your old medical attendant, Dr. Toddington, has been the victim of a very suspicious train of circumstances."

"But surely," exclaimed Windrush, at length breaking silence, "you did not get your information from him? He is the last person in the world to throw any fresh light upon the case! Why, the old simpleton firmly believes I am insane, and has been the chief means of putting me here!"

"No, no! It was from quite a different source."

"I must confess," said Windrush after a pause, during which he appeared to be reflecting deeply; "I must confess that I am very curious as to the means by which you, a total stranger, have got to know so much about my private affairs."

"I will tell you with the greatest pleasure, only, as I said before, time is precious, and I must ask you not to waste it by interrupting me. I will be as brief as I can." And in a few words, Pringle informed him of his accidental interview with the Doctor and the innkeeper's son. "Now," he said in conclusion, "may I ask you to regard me as a friend, and to speak to me unreservedly?"

"I really don't know how you are going to help me, Mr. Pringle, but I can only say that I shall be eternally grateful to anyone who will rescue me from this miserable position. It is quite true that I see things at night, but I swear to you positively they are realities, and not delusions! Why, only last night I saw a fiery object of some sort while I was in bed. It was about six or eight inches long and appeared to run along the floor. I feel that if these things continue to trouble me much longer, my brain will indeed give way under the strain." He covered his face with his hands and sobbed passionately. "You must excuse me," said he, regaining his composure after a pause, during which Pringle had affected to be examining the garden, "but if you knew all that I have gone through during the last few months, you would wonder that I am as sensible as I am. I often wonder at it myself," he added with a melancholy smile.

"Do I understand you to say that these fiery apparitions only occur at nights'?" inquired Pringle.

"They have never appeared at any other time. As a rule I see them on first retiring. I cannot even have the poor consolation of believing they are merely a nightmare horror."

"I should very much like to look at the room where all these things take place. Is your bedroom anywhere near?"

"Only through here," Windrush led the way into an adjoining apartment where a man sat reading. "This is my attendant," he said, as the man rose on their entry and bowed.

"Would you mind asking him to inquire if Dr. Fernhurst is anywhere about the place? I should like to see him," said Pringle.

As the man departed on his errand, Pringle continued in a low voice, "I only want to get rid of him."

Windrush nodded with a look of intelligence, and opened a door on the further side of the room. The bedroom was plainly but substantially furnished, and overlooked the garden at a point where the clipped yews were replaced by a more pleasing vegetation, the mingled scent of jasmine and day-lily floating in through the open window.

"Where does that lead to?" asked Pringle, pointing to a door opposite the one by which they had entered.

"To Dr. Fernhurst's room. The door is usually locked, but either he or Bonting, the chief attendant, always sleeps there in case I should want their services during the night. Then Jenkinson, my own attendant, always sleeps in the ante-room. I am well looked after you see!" Again the melancholy smile.

Pringle went down on his hands and knees and commenced to make a rigid examination of the floor. The room was carpeted with a chocolate-coloured linoleum scattered over with a rug or two, and apparently presented nothing likely to repay such an elaborate investigation. After a prolonged tour of the room, including a temporary disappearance under the bedstead, Pringle rose to his feet and placed something carefully between the leaves of a book of cigarette-papers, just as the attendant was heard returning from a fruitless search.

"Dr. Fernhurst is nowhere about, sir, and is not expected back till late," the man announced.

"Never mind," said Pringle cheerily. "And now, Windrush, I must be going. I'm delighted to find you so comfortably housed and so well looked after. Keep up your spirits, I shall hope to see you again soon." He grasped Windrush's hand with an eloquent pressure which was gratefully returned.

Walking slowly back to the station, Pringle took the train to Thorpe Stanlowe, and inquired for Dr. Toddington. He had had to wait some time for the train at Axford, and the evening was drawing in as he approached the house. The doctor was reading, or rather dozing, in his study when the servant announced "Mr. Pringle." Seizing the conversation-tube which lay beside him, he adjusted it too late to grasp the name of his visitor, but rose to welcome the tall figure of Pringle as he entered, suave and well-groomed as ever.

"Pardon my intrusion at so late an hour," Pringle apologized in his most insinuating tones; "but will you allow me to consult an Encyclopaedia?"

The doctor courteously referred Pringle to a revolving bookcase and watched him curiously, as with the volume open at a plate of Lacertilia, he sat glancing from it every now and again to something in his hand, which he examined through a Coddington magnifier.

"I feel," said Pringle at length as he returned the volume to its place, "that I owe you an apology for making use of you in this very unceremonious fashion, especially when I tell you that I come here under false pretences."

"False pretences! I hardly follow you, Mr. Coatbridge," said the doctor stiffly.

"To make a long story short, I am not Mr. Coatbridge, although I am told I resemble him greatly. My real name is Pringle—here is my card, and I am a literary agent in London." He did not think it necessary to add the information that his agency was a sinecure!

The doctor rose abruptly, dropping the conversation-tube in his agitation. Pringle sprang forward to recover it, but was majestically motioned away by the old gentleman, and the two stood facing one another.

"I don't know, sir," began the doctor very slowly and deliberately, "on what ethical grounds you can justify your extraordinary conduct; under a false name, and assuming a false interest in an unfortunate man, you have succeeded in involving me in a very serious breach of professional etiquette."

"Excuse me," said Pringle, seizing the free end of the tube as the doctor paused in his somewhat pompous admonition; "I never assumed any name! I was not responsible for the innkeeper's mistake. I tried to explain to you this morning that I knew nothing of what you were talking about, but could not make you understand, and I have come now partly to explain matters, and partly to tell you that I have just left Mr. Windrush."

"Mr. Windrush! What your motives may be, sir, I cannot imagine, but if I may judge them from your mode of procedure they are of a nature that will scarcely bear investigation."

"I am painfully aware," said Pringle, "that my conduct must appear liable to misconstruction, but all I ask is that you bear with me for a moment. A mere accident has led me to think that Mr. Windrush has been the victim of a conspiracy to declare him insane, and this appears to me to be the work of the chief person to benefit by its success—Percy Windrush!"

"May I ask where you acquired this information, which appears to seriously affect my professional character?"

"After you left this morning, I went for a sail on the Broad. The landlord's son said he had been in Mr. Windrush's service, and in the course of conversation he made statements—"

"And do you mean to tell me, sir, that you are relying on the chatter of an ignorant bumpkin like that!"

"He only suggested a line of thought, and the more I speculated upon it, the stronger grew my suspicions."

"I really am not prepared to go into the matter with you," returned the doctor icily; "but what I should like to know is how you gained access to Mr. Windrush? I may tell you that as legal difficulties arose in connection with the management of the estate, there was an 'inquisition' or inquiry before a Master in Lunacy with a jury, and by them Mr. Windrush was declared insane, and irresponsible. He then became the ward of the Lord Chancellor, and any interference with him is likely to be severely dealt with!"

"To confirm my theory of the case," said Pringle, "it was absolutely necessary that I should have an interview with him. As I appear to be so like his friend Coatbridge, it occurred to me that I would, just for that single occasion, assume his name. I was thus admitted to see him, and, as a result, I have now no doubt whatever that Percy was in the habit of introducing snakes and other animals which he had coated with luminous paint and so on, into John's bed-room. That explains his solicitude for his brother, shown by his sleeping in the next room, and the boy said that John only became queer after Percy's arrival."

"But how do you account for the visions still appearing?" inquired the doctor cautiously.

"Of course they do!" cried Pringle. "And they'll continue to appear so long as he remains under Dr. Fernhurst's care."

"What! Do you say that Dr. Fernhurst is concerned in the plot as well?"

"I know it! When I got to Axford this morning he was out—very luckily, as it happened! I gained Windrush's confidence after a little explanation; especially when he saw that I didn't ridicule his having seen some fiery animal last night, and then I got him to take me to the theatre of the apparitions, I managed to get rid of the attendant, and so had a good look round. As I anticipated, the room communicates with the doctor's own room, and under the bed I found this trace of the fiery object he saw." Pringle laid on the table his book of cigarette-papers, and carefully placing in his palm a morsel of what appeared to be one of the leaves, handed Toddington the magnifier, and motioned him to inspect the object through it.

"This," said Pringle, "appears to be a flake of cuticle such as lizards are periodically casting, and the lines on it correspond to those found on the head of the common green lizard. Now the Encyclopaedia, which I just consulted in case my memory was misleading me, gives this marking as a means of differentiating the species; therefore I know it was a common green lizard which Windrush saw in his room last night!"

"But I thought you said he told you it was fiery?"

"Turn down the light, please, while I reverse the scale. Thanks! Now look over here." Without the lamp the room was quite dark, and, as the doctor looked, a faint shimmering glow from the direction of Pringle's hand gradually dawned on his gaze.

"Will that satisfy you?" asked Pringle exultingly.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the other in admiration; "you must really allow me to apologize for anything I may have said to hurt your feelings. But you will understand, if you put yourself in my place, how particularly unpleasant it was to find I had been discussing the private affairs of a patient and a friend with a stranger."

"I quite understand," said Pringle cordially. "But the question now is, how we can help Windrush?"

"I am afraid the others are too strong for us. Percy Windrush is his brother's committee, the person appointed to manage his affairs, and the other member of the committee with whom the charge of his person rests is Dr. Fernhurst. They have got it all their own way, I fear. As you say, he is never likely to recover as long as he remains in their hands. It would be no use calling the attention of the Lord Chancellor to your discoveries, and to help him to escape would be a criminal offence."

"That's no good at all," decided Pringle. "Percy is playing a very deep game, and this Fernhurst must be as thorough-paced a scoundrel as he, and no doubt gets well paid for his share of the work. No; the only thing to do is to take the bull by the horns, and frighten the pair of them out of the country! Then the 'hallucinations' will disappear, and Windrush can be officially declared of sound mind."

"I don't much like the idea," Toddington objected.

"There's nothing else to be done. Where's your evidence? Moral proof is not legal proof. Suppose you took proceedings and failed, as you would, for want of evidence, you'd be confronted with any amount of actions for libel and what not. No, no! You let me have all the documents in the case and any letters of Fernhurst's you have, and I'll see if I can't work on their terrors."

And when Pringle departed, his pockets bulged with a miscellaneous collection of documents.

A day or two after, as Mr. Percy Windrush was sitting in his chambers, he was informed that a messenger from Dr. Fernhurst was waiting to see him.

"What does he want?" he asked.

"He wouldn't tell me, sir," replied the servant. "He says his message is for you only, and very important."

"Bring him up then," and Percy began to bite his nails. As managing his brother's estate he had let Thorpe Stanlowe, himself retiring to chambers in Piccadilly, where he lived as much a Sybarite as his somewhat gross ideals permitted.

"What's the matter?" he snapped, as the messenger, a spruce young man with side-whiskers, entered the room.

"Dr. Fernhurst told me to give you this letter, sir, and await your reply," he said with a respectful bow.

Percy opened the letter in some trepidation, and read:—

Having read this letter, Windrush scanned it closely, as if hoping to read into it another meaning than that which appeared on the surface.

"The doctor was rather in a hurry when he wrote this?" he remarked at length.

"I didn't see him write it, sir, but I know that he was rather upset this morning."

Windrush hastily scribbled a note, and enclosing a cheque in it, rang the bell. "James," to the servant, "take this round to the Bank, and bring me back the answer as soon as possible."

"What had upset the doctor then?" he continued.

"Why, sir, I'm sorry to say that Mr. Windrush's attendant got drunk, and was very insolent to the doctor yesterday, so he dismissed him. But as he wants to go out to Africa, the doctor has very kindly helped him to a passage."

"Ah, very kind of the doctor, to be sure!" remarked Percy dryly. "I don't remember your face; have you been long with Dr. Fernhurst?"

"Not a great while, sir."

Percy again took up his pen. He was not a very ready correspondent, and sucked the holder for a minute or so between each sentence, so that it was only as the servant returned from the Bank that he finished his letter. Taking the packet, he enclosed it with the letter in a stout envelope, and handed it to Dr. Fernhurst's messenger.

"Be as quick as you can back," he said. "The doctor wants this as soon as possible, but be careful; its contents are valuable."

Pringle, for it was he, retired with a sense of having satisfactorily played the first hand in his game of bluff. He congratulated himself that his powers of penmanship had not deteriorated. True, Percy had detected a change in what purported to be Fernhurst's writing, but then that was explained by his presumed agitation at the time. Ah, they would both, in sober truth, be agitated before they were much older! Lucky he had secured some stamped paper when he was at the Asylum! Matters wouldn't have been quite so simple if old Toddington had refused to part with the correspondence. And as he passed eastward on an omnibus, Pringle opened Percy's letter, and having carefully pocketed the bank-notes, read with much satisfaction—

Arrived at his chambers at Furnival's Inn, Mr. Pringle's first care was to dispense with his whiskers and resume his official port-wine mark. Then he devoted the rest of the day to the concoction of two letters which would fire the train he had just laid. This was the first:—

And this the second:

"THE flowers are beautiful," commented Pringle. "It was certainly very kind of Mr. Windrush to send them all this way. Is this your first visit to London?"

"Farst time, sir; an' beggin' yar pardon, it bates me how people live here. Fared's ef I couldn't brathe in them streets."

"So you're back in Mr. Windrush's service?" said Pringle, as he finished his note of thanks.

"O—o, I were rale glad to get back agin to th' oo'd place! I could ha' jumped outer my skin when master asked me to come back's head-gardener. I felt that horrud shut in th' bar all day, an' fawther were a-gettin' tired o' doin' nothin' and thought he'd like te work for a yare or tew more."

"But I thought the place was let."

"They went oof end o' las month. Master wouldn't 'new th' lease, as he were a-livin' 'long o' Dr. Toddington till they went."

"Then things are just as they were before?"

"Same ivery way, sir—'ceptin' won!" The youth grinned knowingly.

"What's that?"

"Mr. Percy! Thorpe Stanlowe'll see him noo more. I hard he'd gone abroad fur fear they'd put him in Norwich Castle fur makin' tew free with th' money while master were 'way. Guilty conscience most-like!"

"Very probably!" agreed Pringle. "Then I shan't find you at the inn if I come down for any more yachting."

"Oo, fawther'll be glad to see yew an' len' yew th' cutter. Thank yew kindly, sir—my best respec's te yew, sir!"