"Who’s that fellow that’s just gone down there?" he asked, pointing his thumb in the direction of the sea. "A thick-set man with a jerky sort of walk, looking for all the world as if the whole place belonged to him." Jenkins peeped down over the edge of the cliff. "Why, that’s my governor!" he remarked, "old Tommy himself. As it happens, the whole place does belong to him, barring your little house here that he can’t get." "Mr. Field!" exclaimed Ben, "Tommy, as you so respectfully call him. Sounds very natural to me somehow." Suddenly he slapped his hand upon his thigh. "Tommy Field!" he repeated. "Tommy Field! Of course I remember now. Made his money in America, didn’t he?" "Piles of it!" ejaculated the footman. "He’s called ’the Silver King,’ he’s so rich. But I must be off, or I’ll get a wigging. He’s going to bathe this evening, and I’ve got his majesty’s towels." For some time did Ben continue to lean over the garden gate after Jenkins had left him. Judging from his preoccupied face his meditations appeared to be profound and perplexing. And so indeed they were. His thoughts were far away, dwelling upon a scene very different to the homely English landscape now before him. A vivid picture was being conjured up in his mind. The roar of a mountain torrent seemed again to make subdued music in his ears, and he could almost feel the night breeze which stirred the pine branches, as they waved in the moonlight over a little wooden house which stood upon the bank of the stream. Within the hut two men held converse by the glimmer of an oil lamp suspended from the rough beams of the ceiling. He seemed to be looking into the cunning, bloodshot eyes of one of the speakers, as he leant forward to emphasize some remark. Ben laughed grimly as he recalled the scene, for the features were those of Field, and in Field’s companion he recognized himself. "It’s strange we’ve not met again since that time," he soliloquized as he puffed away at his pipe. "Never dreamt he’d get on in the world like this. Mighty queer he was that night, I remember, though his tongue was so glib. Rum thing altogether, now I come to think of it!" For some minutes Ben appeared to be lost in speculations too deep for words. At last he gave a low chuckle. "Wonder now if I could work it?" he continued. "Sure enough I’ve got precious little to go upon, but if I’m on the right tack and play my cards well, I may be able to put the screw on somewhere. ’Conscience makes cowards of us all,’ and if there was anything fishy about it, he’ll know, even if I don’t! At any rate it’s well worth trying." When Jenkins returned with the towels about half an hour later, Ben walked back with him a little way upon the road. "Seeing your master’s so rich I suppose he’s pestered with letters of all sorts?" he said, "begging, and such-like?" "Crowds," replied the footman, "mostly circulars though, enough to light a bonfire every week."