“You have come about the yacht, sir.  You would wish to inspect her at once?  This is most unfortunate!  Your letter only reached us this afternoon.  The fact is, my partner, Mr. Moss, has gone off for the day to N—­ to attend a meeting of the Amateur Bee-keepers’ Association—­my partner is an enthusiast upon bee-culture.”

The versatility of Moss began to grow bewildering. “—­and will not be back until late to-night.  As for me,” he consulted his watch, “I am due in half an hour’s time to conduct the rehearsal of a service of song at the Lady Huntingdon’s Chapel, down the street, where I play the harmonium.”

The diversity of Dewy dazed me.

“You are staying the night at F—?” he said.

“Why, yes.  I sleep at the Ship Inn, but hoped to leave early to-morrow.”

“Of course you could inspect the sails and gear at once; they are in the loft behind.”  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“So I understand, but it would be better to see the boat first.”

“Naturally, naturally.  I hope you see how I am placed?  You would not desire me, I feel sure, to disappoint the chapel members who will be waiting presently for their rehearsal.  Stay . . . perhaps you would not greatly object to rowing up and inspecting the yacht by yourself?  Here are the keys, and my boat is at your disposal; or, if you prefer it, a waterman—­”

“Nothing would suit me better, if you don’t mind my using the boat.”

“It will be a favour, sir, your using her, I assure you.  This way, if you please.”

He jumped down from the table and led the way downstairs, and through some very rickety back premises to the quay door, where his boat lay moored to a frape.  As I climbed down and cast off, Mr. Dewy pulled out his watch again.

“The evenings are lengthening, and you will have plenty of time.  Half an hour to high water; you will have the tide with you each way.  The keys will open everything on board.  By the way, you can’t miss her—­black, with a tarnished gilt line, moored beside a large white schooner, just three-quarters of a mile up.  You can tie up the boat to the frape on your return; to-morrow will do for the keys; at your service any time after nine a.m.  Good evening, sir!”

Mr. Dewy turned and hurried back to his client, whose presence during our interview he had completely ignored.

The sun had dropped behind the tall hills that line the western shore of the beautiful F—­ River; but a soft yellow light, too generously spread to dazzle, suffused the whole sky, and was reflected on the tide that stole up with scarcely a ripple.  A sharp bend of the stream brought me in sight of the two yachts, not fifty yards away—­their inverted reflections motionless as themselves; I rested on my oars and drifted up towards them, conning the black yawl carefully.

She struck me as too big for a 35-tonner, fore-shortened though she lay—­a wall-sided narrow boat, but a very pretty specimen of her type.  Her dismantled masts were painted white, and her upper boards had been removed, of course.