accustomed to the use of the little place."

The sound of the dinner gong boomed through the house. A moment
later Gerald entered, followed by a butler announcing dinner.

"The only remaining member of my family," Mr. Fentolin remarked,
indicating his nephew. "Gerald, you will be pleased, I know, to
meet Mr. Hamel. Mr. Hamel has been a great traveller. Long before
you can remember, his father used to paint wonderful pictures of
this coast."

Gerald shook hands with his visitor. His face, for a moment,
lighted up. He was looking pale, though, and singularly sullen
and dejected.

"There are two of your father's pictures in the modern side of the
gallery up-stairs," he remarked, a little diffidently. "They are
great favourites with everybody here."

They all went in to dinner together. Meekins, who had appeared
silently, had glided unnoticed behind his master's chair and
wheeled it across the hall.

"A partie carree to-night," Mr. Fentolin declared. "I have a
resident doctor here, a very delightful person, who often dines
with us, but to-night I thought not. Five is an awkward number.
I want to get to know you better, Mr. Hamel, and quickly. I
want you, too, to make friends with my niece and nephew. Mr.
Hamel's father," he went on, addressing the two latter, "and your
father were great friends. By-the-by, have I told you both