"Jove, he can write!" said Doctor with inconsequent enthusiasm. "Read any of--? You're an educated man, aren't you?" "I'm a working man," said Mr. Wriford. "No, I don't read much." Doctor seemed to be thinking for a moment more of the Wriford who wrote than of the Wriford who lay here. Recollecting himself he went on: "How did you get there--where the coastguards found you?" "I was tramping--looking for work. I got cut off. Will you tell me, please? Where is this place?" Doctor told him. This was Port Rannock--the cottage hospital. The coastguards had found him wedged up on the cliff and brought him in. Touch and go for a very long time while he lay unconscious--unconscious nearly a month. They had mended his legs--one broken, the knee of the other sprained--fever--"all sorts of things," said Doctor, smiling. "But we've fixed you up now," he ended. "You're on the road now all right," and he went on to explain the real business of this talk and of the Visiting Committee's intentions when they came. Mr. Wriford was to be moved. "Only a Cottage Hospital, you see," and the bed was wanted. There had been a landslip where some local men were working--five cases--the main ward simply crowded out. Mr. Wriford must go to the town infirmary over at Pendra--unless-- "Sure you haven't any friends?" said Doctor, looking at Mr. Wriford closely. "Quite sure? Committee here? All right, Sister, I'm coming. Quite sure?" Mr. Wriford said: "Quite. I had one. He was with me. He was drowned. Did they find--?" "Why, the coastguards who found you found a body on the shore the same day. Was that your friend? A big man--stout?" "That was my friend," said Mr. Wriford; and asked: "Is he buried here?" "In the churchyard. We knew nothing who he was, of course. There's just a wooden cross. You'd like to see it when you're better. They've kept his things, or at least a list of them. You could identify by them. Had he any friends?" "Only me. I think only me. We met on the road." "Poor chap," said Doctor. "Washed off, I suppose?" "No, he jumped off. He couldn't swim." Doctor, who was going obedient to Sister's call, turned and exclaimed: "Jumped off? Why?" But Mr. Wriford was lying back as he had lain these many days, thinking. V