"Have you got any particular reason for wanting to go to Dutton Priors
this afternoon?" inquired the girl.

"Reason?" said the captain. "Good gracious, no. What reason should I
have? My leg is a trifle stiff to-day for stiles, but still--"

Miss Drewitt gave way at once, and, taking his arm, begged him to lean on
her, questioning him anxiously as to his fitness for a walk in any
direction.

"Walking'll do it good," was the reply, as they proceeded slowly down the
High Street.

He took his watch from his pocket, and, after comparing it with the town
clock, peered furtively right and left, gradually slackening his pace
until Miss Drewitt's fears for his leg became almost contagious. At the
old stone bridge, spanning the river at the bottom of the High Street, he
paused, and, resting his arms on the parapet, became intent on a derelict
punt. On the subject of sitting in a craft of that description in
mid-stream catching fish he discoursed at such length that the girl eyed
him in amazement.

[Illustration: "He became intent on a derelict punt."]

"Shall we go on?" she said, at length.

The captain turned and, merely pausing to point out the difference
between the lines of a punt and a dinghy, with a digression to sampans
which included a criticism of the Chinese as boat-builders, prepared to
depart. He cast a swift glance up the road as he did so, and Miss