They had reached a point in the road where the fields to the right sloped sharply downward. A few hundred yards away, backed by woods, stood the beautiful home which ex-Policeman McEachern had caused to be builded for him. The setting sun lit up the waters of the lake. No figures were to be seen moving in the grounds. The place resembled a palace of sleep. "Well?" said Molly. "By Jove!" "Isn't it?" said Molly. "I'm so glad you like it. I always feel as if I had invented everything round here. It hurts me if people don't appreciate it. Once I took Sir Thomas Blunt up here. It was as much as I could do to induce him to come at all. He simply won't walk. When we got to where we are standing now, I pointed and said: 'There!'" "And what did he do? Moan with joy?" "He grunted, and said it struck him as rather rustic." "Beast! I met Sir Thomas when we got off the train. Spennie Blunt introduced me to him. He seemed to bear it pluckily, but with some difficulty. I think we had better be going, or they will be sending out search parties." "By the way, Jimmy," said Molly, as they went down the hill. "Can you act?" "Can I what?" "Act. In theatricals, you know." "I've never tried. But I've played poker, which I should think is much the same." "We are going to do a play, and we want another man. The man who was going to play one of the parts has had to go back to London." "Poor devil! Fancy having to leave a place like this and go back to that dingy, overrated town." * * * * * The big drawing-room of the abbey was full when they arrived. Tea was going on in a desultory manner. In a chair at the far end of the room, Sir Thomas Blunt surveyed the scene gloomily through the smoke of a cigarette. The sound of Lady Blunt's voice had struck their ears as they opened the door. The Maxim gun was in action with no apparent prospect of jamming. The target of the moment was a fair, tired-looking lady, with a remarkable resemblance to Spennie. Jimmy took her to be his hostess. There was a resigned expression on her face, which he thoroughly understood. He sympathized with her. The other occupants of the room stared for a moment at Jimmy in the austere manner peculiar to the Briton who sees a stranger, and then resumed their respective conversations. One of their number, a slight, pale, young man, as scientifically clothed as Sir Thomas, left his group, and addressed himself to Molly. "Ah, here you are, Miss McEachern," he said. "At last. We were all getting so anxious." "Really?" said Molly. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Wesson."