“Perhaps, sir, you would like to stay here for a night or two,” suggested the host timidly; “we have a couple of spare beds.”

“Nothing would please me better,” answered Mr. Deedes, with solemn alacrity.  “I feel that the healthful air of these hills is doing me an immensity of good.  Kindly send to the Crown at Bowness for my portmanteau, and ascertain what you have in the house for dinner.”

After a while came dinner, and a little later on, Mr. Deedes having expressed a desire to see something of the lake, the landlord sent to borrow a boat, and then took his guest for an hour’s row on Windermere.  From the water they had a capital view of the low white front of Bon Repos.  There were two gentlemen smoking on the terrace.  The lesser of the two, said the landlord, was M. Platzoff.  The taller man was Captain Ducie, at present a guest at Bon Repos.  Then the landlord wandered off into a long, rambling account of Bon Repos and its owner.  Mr. Deedes was much interested in hearing about the eccentric habits and strange mode of life of M. Platzoff, with the details of which the landlord was as thoroughly acquainted as though he had formed one of the household.  Their row on the lake was prolonged for a couple of hours, and Mr. Deedes went back to the hotel much edified.

In the dusk of evening he encountered Cleon, M. Platzoff’s valet, as he was lounging slowly down the village street on his way to The Jolly Fishers.  Mr. Deedes scrutinised the dark-skinned servant narrowly in passing.  “The face of a cunning, unscrupulous rascal, if ever I saw one,” he muttered to himself.  “Nevertheless, I must make his acquaintance.”

And he did make his acquaintance.  As Cleon and the landlord sat hob-nobbing together in the little snuggery behind the bar, Mr. Deedes put in his head to ask a question of the latter.  Thereupon the landlord begged permission to introduce his friend Mr. Cleon to the notice of his guest, Mr. Deedes.  The two men bowed, Mr. Cleon rather sulkily; but Mr. Deedes was all affability and smiling bonhommie.  He had several questions to ask, and he sat down on the only vacant chair in the little room.  He wanted to know the distance to Keswick; how much higher Helvellyn was than Fairfield; whether it was possible to get any potted char for breakfast, and so on; on all which questions both Cleon and the landlord had something to say.  But talking being dry work, as Mr. Deedes smilingly observed, brought naturally to mind the fact that the landlord had some excellent dry sherry, and that one could not do better this warm evening than have another bottle fetched up out of the cool depths of the cellar.  Mr. Cleon, being pressed, was nothing loth to join Mr. Deedes over this bottle.  Mr. Deedes, without condescending into familiarity, made himself very agreeable, but did not sit long.  After imbibing a couple of glasses, he bade the landlord and the valet an affable good-night, and went off decorously to bed.