afternoon years ago. She had always felt then that he was laughing at
her, and at the age of twelve she had resented laughter at her
expense.

"You surely can't be Wally Mason!"

"I was wondering when you would remember."

"But the programme called you something else,--John something."

"That was a cunning disguise. Wally Mason is the only genuine and
official name. And, by Jove! I've just remembered yours. It was
Mariner. By the way,"--he paused for an almost imperceptible
instant--"is it still?"



CHAPTER FOUR


1.

Jill was hardly aware that he had asked her a question. She was
suffering that momentary sense of unreality which comes to us when
the years roll away and we are thrown abruptly hack into the days of
our childhood. The logical side of her mind was quite aware that
there was nothing remarkable in the fact that Wally Mason, who had
been to her all these years a boy in an Eton suit, should now present
himself as a grown man. But for all that the transformation had
something of the effect of a conjuring-trick. It was not only the