“Oh, no,” he said. “I retired from business several years ago and when I did that I came home. I do a little work now and then--for Lloyds, mostly--just to keep from getting rusty, and by way of having leisure to enjoy. A man with no occupation, you know,” he remarked, “has no leisure. He’s kept busy all the time looking for something to do.” I laughed at that, tapped my stone leg and told him I agreed with him heartily. It may have been this expression of my own weariness of doing nothing which led him, when he came down-stairs again a little later, coolly clad in mohair, to make a suggestion which produced some unexpected results. “I was thinking of going out for a stroll,” he said, “but why don’t you come with me? That wheel chair of yours looks seaworthy. I saw a pleasant little summer-house up on the hill, beyond your ruins. Couldn’t Donovan wheel you up there, with a little help perhaps from me? You’d enjoy a change and a new view, and, I should think, a certain amount of exercise.” It was a perfectly practicable idea, as well as an attractive one, so we carried it out at once. I wondered a little that I hadn’t thought of it myself days ago. He carried my field-glasses along to amuse himself with and I was munitioned with a book, so that he might feel at liberty to stroll off and leave me if the humor took him. This, after a period of pleasant chat about nothing in particular, is what he did. The summer-house is nothing much but a conical roof supported by rustic trellised poles, open at all sides to the breeze, and though these are more or less overgrown with vines, it still commands a pretty wide prospect all around the hill. I turned my back on the melancholy ruin of my house and faced down the path by which we had come, the cottage in the middle of my view with the road to The Oaks winding down the valley. I sat there contentedly enough for quite a while, ruminating and hardly more than half awake. The mysteries connected with old Mrs. Corbin’s necklace were still mysterious to me, to be sure, but since the thing had been returned, my interest in it was largely academic. I hadn’t, you are to remember, seen Punch that morning. I was mildly curious about my guest. I wondered what the business had been that had kept him living in Paris so many years. He hadn’t volunteered to tell me, and of course I hadn’t asked. And what was the sort of work that he did occasionally for Lloyds? Since they write every conceivable kind of insurance, the name didn’t tell me much. I was aroused suddenly by becoming aware that I was going to have visitors. I can’t say how, because I can’t remember having heard their footsteps or their voices. My back was to the entrance, so I wheeled my chair around to see who it was. Judy and her young man! She’d remembered her promise after all. They were almost upon me. She was holding out her hand to lead him inside. “Here we are,” she said to him.