I looked at this latest manifestation with undisguised astonishment, but he was imperturbable, and merely chewed his straw with renewed energy. "That's the stuff, old lad," he said, as I laid the car in position. "What now? Shall I give you a hand up with the trunk, or will you hump it yourself? Don't mind me a bit. I'm ready for anything." He looked genial, but I found him familiar, so with a curt: "Take it to number ten," I strode off to overtake Tony, whom I saw half-way down a rough path that led to her beloved "burn." "I've seen the chambermaid," she said, when I overtook her. "Such a pretty girl, but very shy and unsophisticated. Quite a girl, but wears a wedding-ring." I watched Tony "paidling" for some time, but as the amusement consisted mainly of getting her under-apparel wet, I grew tired of it, and climbed back to the hotel. The bar-window was open once more in the little lounge, and Mr. Gunthorpe was behind, his arms resting upon the ledge. "Have a drink?" he said, as I entered. "It's all right now. The balloon's gone up." I looked at my watch. It was after six o'clock. "I'll have a small Scotch and soda," I decided. "This is on the house," said the eccentric landlord. He produced two glasses and filled them, and I noticed that he took money from his pocket and placed it in the till. "Well, success to the new management!" I said, raising my glass to his. "Cheerio, and thank you," said he, smiling genially upon me. He seemed to me more self-possessed and less eccentric than he had appeared upon our arrival. I determined to draw him out. "It's funny that an Australian should have owned an hotel away up in the Welsh hills," I hazarded. "Did he die recently?" "Australia? You must have misunderstood me," said Mr. Gunthorpe with a hunted look in his eyes. "Very likely--very likely I said Ostend." "Ostend? Well, possibly I did," I agreed, feeling certain that I had made no mistake. "Had he a hotel there as well?" "Yes, yes. Of course, of course, of course," agreed the landlord, largely redundant. "And are you running that as well?" "Heaven forbid!" he exclaimed, with a shudder. "You see ... this--this is just a small legacy. It'll be all right by and by. All right, all right. Let's have another drink." "With me," I insisted. "Not at all, not at all. On the house. All for the good of the house. Come along, Bob, have a drink!" It was the boots who had now entered, and he strolled up to the bar with all the self-possession of a welcome guest. "Just a spot of Scotch, old thing!" he said brightly. "It's a hard life. Shaking down good and comfy, laddie?"--this last to me. "Ask for anything you fancy. It doesn't follow you'll get it, but if we have it, it's yours. Tinkle, tinkle; crash, crash!" With this unusual toast he raised his glass and drained it. "Have another," he said. "Three Scotches, Boniface."