"About four o'clock, I suppose. The sun was just thinking of rising as we were thinking of retiring." "But it is marvellous! And you are not tired?" "The bathe has freshened us all up," said Margaret. Then Mrs. Vicar came out at sound of their voices, and felicitated them, and begged them to rest a while in the shade. But they were all hungry, and Charles Svendt laughingly asserted that he had swallowed so much salt-water, in rescuing Miss Penny from a watery grave, that his constitution absolutely needed a tiny tot of whisky, or the consequences might be serious. So they went laughingly on their way, and Charles tried his best to get Miss Penny to go and show him the way to the Bel-Air, pleading absolute confusion still as to the points of the compass and the lie of the land. He was to lunch with them at the Red House, but insisted on going home first to straighten up and make himself presentable. So they led him to the Avenue, and set his face straight down it, and bade him follow his nose and turn neither to the right hand nor to the left, and then they turned off through the fields by their own short-cut, and went merrily home. PART THE SIXTH I Graeme was just finishing a beautiful knot in his tie, when he heard hasty feet crossing the verandah to the open front door. There was some unknown quantity in them that gave him sudden start. "Graeme!" sharp, hoarse,--a voice he did not recognise. He ran hastily out of the east bedroom, which he was using as a dressing-room. "Hello there!" as he sprang down the stairs, "Why--Pixley? What's wrong, man?" For Charles Pixley was standing there, leaning in at the doorway, looking as though he would fall headlong but for the supporting jamb. He had a brown envelope in his hand and a crumpled pink telegram. His face was white, and drawn, and haggard. His very figure seemed to have shrunk in these few minutes. Never had Graeme seen so ghastly a change in a man in so short a time. Before Pixley could speak Miss Penny came hurrying along the path with a face full of sympathetic anxiety. "What is it?" she asked. "I saw Mr. Pixley pass, and his face frightened me. Oh, what is wrong?" Pixley glanced at her out of his woeful eyes, and at Margaret, who had just come running down the stairs. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then he groaned-- "You will have to know," and motioned them all into the dining-room and shut the door. "This "--jerking out the telegram--"was waiting for me," and he handed it to Graeme, who smoothed it out and read, while Pixley dropped into a chair. "Pixley. Bel-Air. Sark. "Zizel, Amadou, Zebu, Zeta. Eno." "Code," said Pixley briefly. "Meanings underneath," and dropped his head into his hands. "Zizel," read Graeme slowly--"There is bad news. Amadou--your father. Zebu--has bolted. Zeta--we fear the smash will be a bad one. Eno--?" "My partner's initials--they certify the wire," said Pixley hoarsely.