"Here, Mr. Hamel," his host said, "is a member of my family who
has been a deserter for a short time. This is Mr. Richard Hamel,
Esther; my niece, Miss Esther Fentolin."

She held out her hand with the faintest possible smile, which might
have been of greeting or recognition.

"I travelled for some distance in the train with Mr. Hamel this
afternoon, I think," she remarked.

"Indeed?" Mr. Fentolin exclaimed. "Dear me, that is very
interesting--very interesting, indeed! Mr. Hamel, I am sure, did
not tell you of his destination?"

He watched them keenly. Hamel, though he scarcely understood, was
quick to appreciate the possible significance of that tentative
question.

"We did not exchange confidences," he observed. "Miss Fentolin
only changed into my carriage during the last few minutes of her
journey. Besides," he continued, "to tell you the truth, my ideas
as to my destination were a little hazy. To come and look for some
queer sort of building by the side of the sea, which has been
unoccupied for a dozen years or so, scarcely seems a reasonable
quest, does it?"

"Scarcely, indeed," Mr. Fentolin assented. "You may thank me, Mr.
Hamel, for the fact that the place is not in ruins. My blatant
trespassing has saved you from that, at least. After dinner we must
talk further about the Tower. To tell you the truth, I have grown