"Oh, what fun!" Jeanne declared. "I am coming to help. Please, Mr. Andrew, do let me help. I am sure I could make tea." "It is not necessary, thank you," Andrew answered. "I have a lodger who has brought his own servant. As it happens he was just preparing some tea for us. If you will come round to the other side, where it is a little more sheltered, I will bring you some chairs." They moved across the grass-grown little stretch of sand. The Princess peered curiously at Berners. "Your face," she remarked, "seems quite familiar to me." Berners did not for the moment answer her. He was looking towards Forrest, who was busy lighting a cigarette. "I am afraid, madam," he said, after a slight pause, "that I cannot claim the honour of having met you." The Princess was not altogether satisfied. Jeanne had gone on with Andrew, and she followed slowly walking with Berners. "I have such a good memory for faces," she remarked, "and I am very seldom mistaken." "I am afraid," Berners said, "that this must be one of those rare occasions. If you will allow me I will go and help Andrew bring out some seats." He disappeared into the cottage, and came out again almost directly with a couple of chairs. This time he met Forrest's direct gaze, and the two men stood for a moment or two looking at one another. Forrest turned uneasily away. "Who the devil is that chap?" he whispered to Cecil. "I'll swear I've seen him somewhere." "Very likely," Cecil answered wearily, throwing himself down on the turf. "I've no memory for faces." Jeanne had stepped into the cottage, and gave a little cry of delight as she found herself in a small sitting-room, the walls of which were lined with books and guns and fishing-tackle. "What a delightful room, Mr. Andrew!" she exclaimed. "Why--" She paused and looked up at him, a little mystified. "Do the fishermen in Norfolk read Shakespeare and Keats?" she asked. "And French books, too, De Maupassant and De Musset?" "They are my lodger's," Andrew answered. "This is his room. I sit in the kitchen when I am at home." His dialect was more marked than ever, and his answer had been delivered without any hesitation. Nevertheless, Jeanne was still a little puzzled. "May I come into the kitchen, please?" she asked. "Certainly," he answered. "You will find Mr. Berners' servant there getting tea ready." Jeanne peeped in, and looked back at Andrew, who was standing behind her. "What a lovely stone floor!" she exclaimed. "And your copper kettle, too, is delightful! Do you mean that when you have not a lodger here, you cook and do everything for yourself?" "There are times," he answered composedly, "when I have a little assistance. It depends upon whether the fishing season has been good." Berners came in, and threw himself into an easychair in the sitting-room. "Make what use you like of my man, Andrew," he said. "I will have a cup of tea in here afterwards." "I'm very much obliged, sir," Andrew answered.