his leave, to find that he regarded me in the light of an old friend.
He said he would call on me the next morning.

I made up my mind that Archibald Enwright--for that, he told me,
was his name--was an adventurer down on his luck, who chose to
forget his British exclusiveness under the stern necessity of getting
money somehow, somewhere. The next day, I decided, I should be the
victim of a touch.

But my prediction failed; Enwright seemed to have plenty of money.
On that first evening I had mentioned to him that I expected shortly
to be in London, and he often referred to the fact. As the time
approached for me to leave Interlaken he began to throw out the
suggestion that he should like to have me meet some of his people
in England. This, also, was unheard of--against all precedent.

Nevertheless, when I said good-by to him he pressed into my hand a
letter of introduction to his cousin, Captain Stephen Fraser-Freer,
of the Twelfth Cavalry, Indian Army, who, he said, would be glad
to make me at home in London, where he was on furlough at the time
--or would be when I reached there.

"Stephen's a good sort," said Enwright. "He'll be jolly pleased to
show you the ropes. Give him my best, old boy!"

Of course I took the letter. But I puzzled greatly over the affair.
What could be the meaning of this sudden warm attachment that Archie
had formed for me? Why should he want to pass me along to his
cousin at a time when that gentleman, back home after two years in
India, would be, no doubt, extremely busy? I made up my mind I