Ronnie was puzzling again. Then he had it. The Red Lion! There was an inn just outside of Wechester; he had stopped there before. Apparently Parker expected some such directions. They left the mists behind them at Wechester and came to the Red Lion. A pretty girl waitress at the hotel saw Ronnie and tossed her head. Her manner was cold. He couldn't remember. That was the oddness of it. He had lost some of his memories. They were completely blotted out from his mind. Why was this pretty girl so cross? He was to learn. Finishing his breakfast he strolled out into the big yard where the car was garaged. The chauffeur was at his breakfast. "Hi! I want to have a talk with you!" A man was approaching. He looked like a groom, wearing gaiters as he did, and he was in his shirtsleeves. Moreover, his style and appearance was hostile. "You're the man who was staying here for the trial!" challenged the newcomer. "Was I--I suppose so." "Was you!" sneered the groom savagely. "Yes, you was! Staying here with a young woman and you went and interfered with my young woman. Yes, interfered--said things to her." His voice went up the scale until he was shouting. There was a stir of feet and men and women came to the doors of outhouses and kitchens. "Doesn't it strike you that you are making the young lady feel uncomfortable--if she is here," said Ronnie seriously. "You are shouting what should be whispered--no, no, Parker, please do not interfere." "I'll tell you what does strike me," bellowed the groom, rolling up his sleeves, "that I'm going to give you the damnedest lacing you ever had--put 'em up!" He lunged forward, but his blow did not get home. A hand gripped him by one shoulder and swung him round--crash! He fell against a stable door. Happily there was a wall for Parker to lean against. He was open-mouthed--incredulous. Phew! Morelle who was ready to drop from terror at a threat, was standing, hands on hips, surveying the bewildered fire-eater. "I'm extremely sorry you made me do that," he said almost apologetically, "but you really must not shout--especially about unpleasant things. If I--if I behaved disgracefully to the lady, I am sorry." All this in a voice that did not reach beyond his adversary. Parker heard the low music of it and scratched his head. Morelle's voice had changed. Later, when Ronnie was preparing to depart, Parker ventured to offer felicitations. "I never saw a man go through it like that fellow did--and they think something of him as a fighter in these parts." "It was nothing," said Ronnie hastily, "a trick--I learned it in New Caledonia from a Japanese who was in the same prison." Parker blinked. "Yes, sir," he said, and then Ronnie laughed. "What on earth am I talking about? I think we will go home, Parker."