She spoke a word to the immovable man on the box, and waved her hand to Wrayson as the horses started forward. They were round the corner in a moment, and out of sight. Wrayson turned back to the inn, but before he had taken half a dozen paces he stopped short. He had happened to glance towards the upper windows of the small hotel, and he caught a sudden vision of a man's face--a familiar face, transformed, rigid, yet with staring eyes following the departing carriage. Wrayson himself was conscious of a quick shock of surprise, followed by a sense of apprehension. What could there possibly have been in the appearance of Louise to have brought a look like that into the face of his fellow-guest? CHAPTER XXV THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS The two men did not meet again until luncheon-time, Anglicized into a one-o'clock meal for their benefit. Already seated at the table they found a short fair man, in the costume of a pedestrian tourist. He wore a tweed knickerbocker suit, and a knapsack lay upon the grass by his side. As Wrayson and his fellow-guest arrived almost at the same time, the newcomer rose and bowed. "Good morning, gentlemen!" he said. "I trust you will permit me a seat at your table. It appears to be the only one." Duncan contented himself with a nod. Wrayson felt compelled to be a little more civil. The man certainly seemed harmless enough. "A very delightful spot, gentlemen," he continued, "and a fine, a very fine church that in the valley. I am spending my holiday taking photographs of churches of a certain period in this vicinity. I am looking forward to explore this one." "I am afraid," Wrayson remarked, "that I do not know much of ecclesiastical architecture, but the aesthetic effect of this one, at least, is very fine." The newcomer nodded. "You are an artist perhaps, sir?" he asked innocently. "I hope so--in some degree," Wrayson answered. "Every one is fundamentally an artist, I suppose, who is capable of appreciating a work of beauty." Duncan smiled slightly to himself. So far he had not spoken. "It is all new country to me," the newcomer continued, "but from what I have seen of it, I should think it a grand place for painters. Not much for the ordinary tourist, eh?" "That depends," Wrayson answered, "upon the ordinary tourist." "Exactly! Quite so!" the little man agreed. "Of course, if one wanted a quiet time, what could be better than this? There must be others who think so besides yourselves." "Who?" Wrayson asked. "Your fellow-guests here." "We have no fellow-guests," Wrayson answered, a little incautiously. The newcomer leaned back in his chair with a disconcerted look. "Then I wonder why," he exclaimed, "the landlord told me that he had not a single room." Wrayson bit his lip. "I fancy," he said, "that he is not in the habit of having people stay here."