“I’ve known him for the greater part of a month,” said Dick Gordon. “Get your gun!” CHAPTER XL FROG THERE is a happiness which has no parallel in life—the happiness which comes when a dear one is restored. Ray Bennett sat by his father’s chair, and was content to absorb the love and tenderness which made the room radiant. It seemed like a dream to be back in this cosy sitting-room with its cretonnes, its faint odour of lavender, the wide chimney-place, the leaded windows, and Ella, most glorious vision of all. The rainstorm that lashed the window-panes gave the comfort and peace of his home a new and a more beautiful value. From time to time he fingered his shaven face absently. It was the only sure evidence to him that he was awake and that this experience belonged to the world of reality. “Pull up your chair, boy,” said John Bennett, as Ella carried in a steaming teapot and put it on the table. Ray rose obediently and placed the big Windsor chair where it had always been when he lived at home, on his father’s right hand. John Bennett sat at the table, his head bent forward. It was the old grace that his father had said for years and years, and which secretly amused him in other days, but which now was invested with a beautiful significance that made him choke. “_For all the blessings we have received this day, may the Lord make us truly thankful!_” It was a wonderful meal, more wonderful than any he had eaten at Heron’s or at those expensive restaurants which he had favoured. Home-cured tongue, home-made bread, and a great jar of home-made preserves, tea that was fragrant with the bouquet of the East. He laid down his knife and fork and leant back with a happy smile. “Home,” he said simply, and his father gripped his hand under cover of the table-cloth, gripped and held it so tightly that the boy winced. “Ray, they want you to take over the management of Maitlands—Johnson does. What do you think of that, son?” Ray shook his head. “I’m no more fit to manage Maitlands than I am to be President of the Bank of England,” he said with a little laugh. “No, dad, my views are less exalted than they were. I think I might earn a respectable living hoeing potatoes—and I should be happy to do so!” The older man was looking thoughtfully at the table. “I—I shall want an assistant if these pictures of mine are the success that Silenski says they will be. Perhaps you can hoe potatoes between whiles—when Ella is married.” The girl went red. “Is Ella going to be married? Are you, Ella?” Ray jumped up and, going to the girl, kissed her. “Ella, it won’t make a difference, will it—about me, I mean?” “I don’t think so, dear. I’ve promised.” “What is the matter?” asked John Bennett, as he saw the cloud that came to the girl’s face. “I was thinking of something unpleasant, daddy,” she said, and for the first time told of the hideous visitation.