“Shall I?” he answered.  “Well, it won’t be for long, at any rate.  And as to not seeing Esther, you must remember that I come from outside this little domain, and I see nothing more in Mr. Fentolin than a bad-tempered, mischievous, tyrannical old invalid, who is fortunately prevented by his infirmities from doing as much mischief as he might.  I am not afraid of your brother-in-law, or of the bully he takes about with him, and I am going to see your daughter somehow or other, and I am going to marry her before very long.”

She thrust out her hand suddenly and grasped his.  The fingers were very thin, almost bony, and covered with rings.  Their grip was feverish and he felt them tremble.

“You are a brave man, Mr. Hamel,” she declared speaking in a low, quick undertone.  “Perhaps you are right.  The shadow isn’t over your head.  You haven’t lived in the terror of it.  You may find a way.  God grant it!”

She wrung his fingers and rose to her feet.  Her voice suddenly changed into another key.  Hamel knew instinctively that she wished him to understand that their conversation was over.

“Chow-Chow,” she cried, “come along, dear, we must have our walk.  Come along, Koto; come along, little dogs.”

Hamel strolled down the terrace steps and wandered for a time in the gardens behind the house.  Here, in the shelter of the great building, he found himself suddenly in an atmosphere of springtime.  There were beds of crocuses and hyacinths, fragrant clumps of violets, borders of snowdrops, masses of primroses and early anemones.  He slowly climbed one or two steep paths until he reached a sort of plateau, level with the top of the house.  The flowers here grew more sparsely, the track of the salt wind lay like a withering band across the flower-beds.  The garden below was like a little oasis of colour and perfume.  Arrived at the bordering red brick wall, he turned around and looked along the narrow road which led to the sea.  There was no sign of Mr. Fentolin’s return.  Then to his left he saw a gate open and heard the clamour of dogs.  Esther appeared, walking swiftly towards the little stretch of road which led to the village.  He hurried after her.

“Unsociable person!” he exclaimed, as he caught her up.  “Didn’t you know that I was longing for a walk?”

“How should I read your thoughts?” she answered.  “Besides, a few minutes ago I saw you on the terrace, talking to mother.  I am only going as far as the village.”

“May I come?” he asked.  “I have business there myself.”

She laughed.

“There are nine cottages, three farmhouses, and a general shop in St. David’s,” she remarked.  “Also about fifteen fishermen’s cottages dotted about the marsh.  Your business, I presume, is with the general shop?”

He shook his head, falling into step with her.

“What I want,” he explained, “is to find a woman to come in and look after me at the Tower.  Your servant who valets me has given me two names.”