“It’s Naboth’s vineyard,” Mr. Fentolin groaned.  “Now, Mr. Hamel, you are going to be gracious, aren’t you?  Let us leave the question of your little habitation here alone for the present.  Come back with me.  My niece shall give you some tea, and you shall choose your room from forty.  You can sleep in a haunted chamber, or a historical chamber, in Queen Elizabeth’s room, a Victorian chamber, or a Louis Quinze room.  All my people have spent their substance in furniture.  Don’t look at your bag.  Clothes are unnecessary.  I can supply you with everything.  Or, if you prefer it, I can send a fast car into Norwich for your own things.  Come and be my guest, please.”

Hamel hesitated.  He had not the slightest desire to go to St. David’s Hall, and though he strove to ignore it, he was conscious of an aversion of which he was heartily ashamed for this strange fragment of humanity.  On the other hand, his mission, the actual mission which had brought him down to these parts, could certainly best be served by an entree into the Hall itself—­and there was the girl, whom he felt sure belonged there.  He had never for a moment been able to dismiss her from his thoughts.  Her still, cold face, the delicate perfection of her clothes and figure, the grey eyes which had rested upon his so curiously, haunted him.  He was desperately anxious to see her again.  If he refused this invitation, if he rejected Mr. Fentolin’s proffered friendship, it would be all the more difficult.

“You are really very kind,” he began hesitatingly—.

“It is settled,” Mr. Fentolin interrupted, “settled.  Meekins, you can ride back again.  I shall not paint to-day.  Mr. Hamel, you will walk by my side, will you not?  I can run my little machine quite slowly.  You see, I have an electric battery.  It needs charging often, but I have a dynamo of my own.  You never saw a vehicle like this in all your travellings, did you?”

Hamel shook his head.

“An electrical bath-chair,” Mr. Fentolin continued.  “Practice has made me remarkably skilful in its manipulation.  You see, I can steer to an inch.”

He was already turning around.  Hamel rose to his feet.

“You are really very kind,” he said.  “I should like to come up and see the Hall, at any rate, but in the meantime, as we are here, could I just look over the inside of this little place?  I found the large shed where the lifeboat used to be kept, locked up.”

Mr. Fentolin was manoeuvring his carriage.  His back was towards Hamel.

“By all means,” he declared.  “We will go in together.  I have had the entrance widened so that I can ride straight into the sitting-room.  But wait.”

He paused suddenly.  He felt in all his pockets.