calmly in the sunset a crowd of dock-loungers and crimps leaned upon the
parapet discussing her merits and wondering who could be the rich
Englishman who could afford to travel in a small liner of his own--for
her size surprised even those Italian dock-hands, used as they were to
seeing every kind of craft enter the busy port.

On stepping on deck Hornby, who like myself wore a clean suit of white
linen as the most sensible dinner-garb in a hot climate, came forward to
greet me, and took me along to the stern where, lying in a long wicker
deck-chair beneath the awning, was a tall, dark-eyed, clean-shaven man
of about forty, also dressed in cool white linen. His keen face gave one
the impression that he was a barrister.

"My friend, Hylton Chater--Mr. Gordon Gregg," he said, introducing us,
and then when, as we shook hands, the clean-shaven man exclaimed,
smiling pleasantly--

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Gregg. You are not a stranger by
any means to Hornby or myself. Indeed, we've got a couple of your books
on board. But I had no idea you lived out here."

"At Ardenza," I said. "Three miles along the sea-shore. To-morrow I hope
you'll both come and dine with me."

"Delighted, I'm sure," declared Hornby. "To eat ashore is quite a treat
when one has been boxed up on board for some time. So we'll accept,
won't we, Hylton?"

"Certainly," replied the other; and then we began chatting about the
peril of the previous night, Hornby telling me how he had copied the two