The old man was a magnificent figure of enormous height. He had a great white beard that fell almost to his waist and his snow-white hair had no covering. Three of his dogs were at his side and the five cats sat in a row on his doorstep. He was standing with his hands behind his back and his head up as though to catch the wind. Maradick introduced himself and stated his errand. The old man shook him warmly by the hand. “Ah, yes; come in, won’t you? Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Maradick. Come into my study and I’ll just take down details.” His voice was as clear as a bell, and his eyes, blue as the sea, looked him through and through. “Here, this is my room. Bit of a mess, isn’t it? But a bachelor can’t help that, you know; besides, I like a mess, always did.” Whatever it was, it was the right kind of mess. The fireplace was of bright blue tiles; there were books, mostly, it seemed, theological, fishing tackle cumbered one corner, guns another, a writing-desk took up a good deal of the room. The old man filled the place. He really was enormous, and he had a habit of snapping his fingers with a sharp, clicking noise like the report of a pistol. Two deerhounds were lying by the fireplace, and these came to meet him, putting their noses into his hands. “Ah, ha! Hum—where are we? Oh! yes! Sit down, Mr. Maradick, won’t you? Oh, clear those things off the chair—yes—let me see! Anthony Gale—Janet Morelli—what? Morelli? How do you spell it? What? M-o-r-e—oh! yes, thanks! Thursday—1.30. Yes, I know the boy; going to be married, is he? Well, that’s a good thing—can’t start breeding too young—improves the race—fill the country with children. Married yourself, Mr. Maradick? Ah! that’s good.” Maradick wondered whether the name, Morelli, would seem familiar to him, but he had obviously never heard it before. “We don’t have many weddings up in this church here, nowadays. They don’t come this way much. Just the people down at the cove, you know. . . . Have some tea—oh, yes! you must have some tea.” He rang the bell and a small boy with a very old face came and received orders. “Remarkable thing, you know,” said Mr. Anstey when the boy had gone out again. “That boy’s twenty-three. You wouldn’t think it, now, would you? But it’s true. Stopped growing, but he’s a good boy; rings the bell in the church, and digs in the garden and all the rest of it. We’ll have tea outside. It’s warm enough and it’s going to be fine, I think. Besides, I always must have my eyes on the sea if it’s possible.” They had tea in the little porch over the door; the honeysuckle was still in flower and there were still roses in the beds, a mass of red hollyhocks at the farther end of the garden stood out against the sky. The old man talked of Tony. “Yes, I’ve met him several times; a splendid boy, a friend of Garrick’s who’s brought him up here. Ah, you know Garrick?” Yes, Maradick knew Garrick.