wiped his forehead.

"Where did you spring from, Hartley?" he asked. "I did not see anyone
just now." There was more irritation than warmth in his greeting of the
police officer.

"I was moonstruck by the edge of that confounded lake. It was so still
that it got on my nerves."

"Nerves," said Joicey abruptly. "There's too much talk of nerves
altogether in these days."

Joicey, like all large men with loud voices, was able to give an
impression of solidity that is very refreshing and reviving at times,
but, otherwise, Joicey was not looking entirely himself. He passed his
handkerchief over his face again and laughed dully.

"You're going to the Club, I suppose?"

"I was going there, but now I'll join you and have a walk, if I may.
It's early for the Club yet."

He turned and walked on beside the Banker, who appeared, if anything,
less in the humour for conversation than was usual with him. They left
the lake behind them, now a pallid gleam flecked with wavering light in
a circle of deep shadows that reached out from the margin.

"Any news?" asked Hartley without enthusiasm.

"Not that I have heard."