“I’m just going to take a quick jump to the beach and a glimpse at the sheep,” said Haynes, and a moment later they saw him passing on his horse. From her place at the head of the breakfast-table Helga Johnston called Dr. Colton to sit next to her, and while talking to him kept one eye on the door. Presently in came Miss Ravenden. “Come up to this end, Dolly,” called Helga. “I want to introduce to you our new guest. Dr. Colton, Miss Ravenden.” “Dr. Colton and I already have——” began Dorothy. “I was fortunate enough to find Miss Ravenden—-” said the confused Dick in the same breath. “Dr. Colton,” continued Helga, cutting them both off, “is here making a collection of government paper currency. I mention this because Miss Ravenden has a well-known reputation for discerning contributions——” “Helga,” said Miss Ravenden calmly, “I have a few withering remarks waiting for you. Dr. Colton, you probably didn’t know that you were saving a practical joker when you——” “Earned that twenty-dollar bill,” put in Helga. “But how did you two adjust your financial relations?” To Dick’s relief the outer door opened, admitting Haynes. They turned to him instantly, with questioning faces. With the change of voice which he kept for Helga alone, he said: “Princess, another of your courtiers is coming over this evening to display his talents.” “Who, Petit Père?” “Your juggler, ‘The Wonderful Whalley.’” “Did you find out anything about him, Monsieur Dupin?” asked Miss Ravenden. “Nothing worth while. If he was out last night, no one knows it.” “And the dead sheep?” But Haynes only shook his head and attacked his breakfast. After breakfast the party separated, Haynes riding over to see some of the fishermen, Helga busying herself with household affairs, Miss Ravenden joining her father in a butterfly expedition to the Hither Wood, and Colton going off alone in ill-humour after a signal discomfiture. He had endeavoured to convince Miss Ravenden that he cherished a passionate fondness for entomology, hoping thereby to gain an invitation to join the party. Unfortunately he undertook the role of a semi-expert, and being by nature the most honest and open of men had fallen into the pit she dug. Upon his profession of faith she at once, so he flattered himself, accepted him as a fellow enthusiast, and began to describe to him a procession of _Arachnidae_ across a swamp. “In the lead was one great, tiger-striped fellow,” she said. “Are you familiar with the beautiful, big _arachnid_ with the yellow-and-black wings?” “Yes, indeed!” said Colton eagerly. “I used to see’em flitting around the roses at our summer place.” “Then,” she said mischievously, “you ought to alter your habits. The _arachnids_ are spiders. Anyone who sees winged spiders is safer fishing than on a butterfly hunt. Good-bye, Dr. Colton.” CHAPTER SEVEN THE WONDERFUL WHALLEY