"I have two and eightpence in my pocket," he said frankly. "I came out in a hurry. I could get more if I wanted, but I don't mean to try, for I have no wish to be traced yet. I'm not a cadger or a confidence-trickster. If you care to finance me till we return, so much the better for me. If not, well, I'll do without and rough it somehow. I don't mean to miss my holiday." Tony smiled. This Hedderwick seemed an admirable fellow. "What and where is The Happy Heart?" he asked. "An inn at Shereling where I mean to stay." "Forward, then, to The Happy Heart. I wish I'd bagged some boots, too. These pumps are simply cruel." They set out once more toward the station. CHAPTER XI AT THE HAPPY HEART The landlord of The Happy Heart stood leaning against his door-post, smoking a churchwarden. He was enjoying his tobacco and the summer morning, and occasionally directing a bovine thought to the identity of the solitary guest at present lying in bed up-stairs. The said guest had arrived two days before with a view to golf, for the Shereling links were well known. The Happy Heart was rarely without a golf enthusiast, since it was the only inn in Shereling, the local squire (at present yachting) owning most of the land in the neighborhood, and refusing to let "his" village become an abiding-place for tourists. Wherefore the neighboring town of Dallingham, six miles distant, reaped a golden harvest, and its hotels were out of all proportion to its population. The guest up-stairs, to return to the landlord's vaguely moving thoughts, was a man well over seventy, but active for his age. An olive complexion hinted that he was no Briton, but the testimony of the green-keepers went to prove that his English was "floont"; and of the magnitude of his tips the odd-job man of The Happy Heart could not say enough. A man of seventy may be excused for showing reserve or desiring quiet, and the landlord did not think it curious that the visitor divided his time between the links and his bedroom: the man was certainly a gentleman, perhaps an aristocrat, and there was no doubt that his money was good. The only thing that bothered the landlord was--why had he brought no servant? It did not occur to him that solitude to the great may be worth more than the benignities of a valet.