"You get these on first," I said, "and then I'll fix you up properly." I thrust my head out through the cabin door to see how things were going, and found that we were already clear of the creek and heading back towards Queenborough. Tommy, who was sitting at the tiller puffing away peacefully at a pipe, removed the latter article from his mouth. "Where are we going to, my pretty maid?" he inquired. "I don't know," I said; "I'll ask the passenger as soon as I've finished doctoring him." I returned to the cabin, where Mr. Latimer, who had stripped off his wet garments, was attempting to dry himself with a dishcloth. I managed to find him a towel, and then, as soon as he had struggled into a pair of flannel trousers and a vest, I set about the job of tying up his arm. An old shirt of Tommy's served me as a bandage, and although I don't profess to be an expert, I knew enough about first aid to make a fairly serviceable job of it. Anyhow Mr. Latimer expressed himself as being completely satisfied. "You'd better have a drink now," I said. "That's part of the treatment." I mixed him a stiff peg, which he consumed without protest; and then, after he had inserted himself carefully into a jersey and coat, we both went outside. "Hullo!" exclaimed Tommy genially. "How do you feel now?" Our visitor sat down on one of the side seats in the cockpit, and contemplated us both with his pleasant smile. "I feel extremely obliged to you, Morrison," he said. "You have a way of keeping your engagements that I find most satisfactory." Tommy laughed. "I had a bit of luck," he returned. "If I hadn't picked up our pal here I doubt if I should have got down in time after all. By the way, there's no need to introduce you. You've met each other before at the hut, haven't you?" Latimer, who was just lighting a cigar which I had offered him, paused for a moment in the operation. "Yes," he said quietly. "We have met each other before. But I should rather like to be introduced, all the same." Something in his manner struck me as being a trifle odd, but if Tommy noticed it he certainly didn't betray the fact. "Well, you shall be," he answered cheerfully. "This is Mr. James Nicholson." Latimer finished lighting his cigar, blew out the match, and dropped it carefully over the side. "Indeed," he said. "It only shows how extremely inaccurate one's reasoning powers can be." There was a short but rather pregnant pause. Then Tommy leaned forward. "What do you mean?" he asked, in that peculiarly gentle voice which he keeps for the most unhealthy occasions. Latimer's face remained beautifully impassive. "I was under the mistaken impression," he answered slowly, "that I owed my life to Mr. Neil Lyndon." For perhaps three seconds none of us spoke; then I broke the silence with a short laugh. "We are up against it, Thomas," I observed. Tommy looked backwards and forwards from one to the other of us. "What shall we do?" he said quietly. "Throw him in the river?"