me the compliment to wonder why I countenance him. But, on the other
hand, there is a large faction who marvel at his countenancing
such a dishevelled, discreditable acquaintance as myself. Few appear
to regard our friendship with equanimity. But that is because they
do not know of the link that binds us, of my amiable connection
via Jamaica with Mr. Ledbetter's past.

About that past he displays an anxious modesty. "I do not KNOW what
I should do if it became known," he says; and repeats, impressively,
"I do not know WHAT I should do." As a matter of fact, I doubt if
he would do anything except get very red about the ears. But that
will appear later; nor will I tell here of our first encounter,
since, as a general rule--though I am prone to break it--the end
of a story should come after, rather than before, the beginning.
And the beginning of the story goes a long way back; indeed, it is
now nearly twenty years since Fate, by a series of complicated and
startling manoeuvres, brought Mr. Ledbetter, so to speak, into my
hands.

In those days I was living in Jamaica, and Mr. Ledbetter was a
schoolmaster in England. He was in orders, and already recognisably
the same man that he is to-day: the same rotundity of visage,
the same or similar glasses, and the same faint shadow of surprise
in his resting expression. He was, of course, dishevelled when
I saw him, and his collar less of a collar than a wet bandage,
and that may have helped to bridge the natural gulf between us--but
of that, as I say, later.

The business began at Hithergate-on-Sea, and simultaneously with
Mr. Ledbetter's summer vacation. Thither he came for a greatly