"What have you done to your face?" he asked. "You look as if you'd been trying to kiss somebody and it hadn't quite come off." I patted my cheek tenderly to see if it were still bleeding. "It was nothing as exciting as that," I said. "Only a slight affair with a blackberry bush." He grunted disbelievingly, and, altering our course a shade more down-stream, swung the head of the boat round so that we came up nearly alongside the landing-stage. I leaned forward and caught hold of the chain. "We get out here," I said. "This is where I live." He switched off the engine, and with the painter in his hand stepped up on the planking. I followed, and held the boat steady while he made her fast to one of the posts. "We seem to be doing very well so far," he observed cheerfully. "What happens next?" "We go up to the house and have some lunch," I replied. "Then you shall hear the true and remarkable story of how Mr. John Dryden came into his inheritance." He thrust his arm through mine. "Come along," he said with a laugh. "That'll suit me all right. I feel hungry enough to swallow anything to-day." We set off up the path, and, rounding the corner, passed through the iron gate which led into the garden. I was waiting eagerly to see what effect the first sight of my residence would have upon Bobby, and it must be admitted that he rose to the occasion. He pulled up, just as Ross had done, and stood for a moment in silent admiration. "By Gad! what a clipping place!" he exclaimed at last. "Is this really yours, Jack?" "Every stick and stone of it," I said with some pride. As I spoke there was a sudden scuffle in the doorway, and the huge figure of Satan bounded out on to the gravel. He had evidently recognised my voice, for with a joyful boom of welcome he came cantering across the lawn to meet us. Bobby received the apparition with commendable coolness. "You must introduce me to Fido," he said. "I'm very found of pet dogs." I performed the ceremony with due state, and in a friendly group we all three advanced towards the house. As we approached the doorway Bascomb appeared on the threshold. "I've brought a friend of mine, Commander Dean, back to lunch with me," I said. "I suppose there'll be enough duck for two?" He ran his eye over Bobby, as if speculating on the latter's appetite. "It ain't a very big 'un," he remarked doubtfully. "If 'e's 'ungry you'd better 'ave the cold beef as well." "Bring up everything you've got," I said. "We'll be down as soon as it's ready." I piloted Bobby through the hall, and upstairs to my bedroom, where, with a contented sigh, he tossed his cap on the chest of drawers. "This is great," he announced. "Who's the sunny-looking sportsman who let us in?" "That's my butler," I explained, pouring out some water. "You mustn't mind his manners. He's a retired prize-fighter and I took him on with the rest of the fixings."