"Then it is settled!" Sabatini exclaimed. "My young friend Arnold is now going to take me out upon the river. I trust myself without a tremor to those shoulders." Arnold rose to his feet with alacrity. "You get into the boat-house down that path," Sabatini continued. "There is a comfortable punt in which I think I could rest delightfully, or, if you prefer to scull, I should be less comfortable, but resigned." "It shall be the punt," Arnold decided, with a glance at the river. "Won't any one else come with us?" Fenella shook her head. "I am going to talk to Miss Lalonde," she said. "After we have had an opportunity of witnessing your skill, Mr. Chetwode, we may trust ourselves another time. Au revoir!" They watched the punt glide down the stream, a moment or two later, Sabatini stretched between the red cushions with a cigarette in his mouth, Arnold handling his pole like a skilled waterman. "You like my brother?" Fenella asked. The girl looked at her gratefully. "I think that he is the most charming person I ever knew in my life," she declared. CHAPTER XXII THE REFUGEE'S RETURN Sabatini's attitude of indolence lasted only until they had turned from the waterway into the main river. Then he sat up and pointed a little way down the stream. "Can you cross over somewhere there?" he asked. Arnold nodded and punted across towards the opposite bank. "Get in among the rushes," Sabatini directed. "Now listen to me." Arnold came and sat down. "You don't mean to tire me," he remarked. Sabatini smiled. "Do you seriously think that I asked you to bring me on the river for the pleasure of watching your prowess with that pole, my friend?" he asked. "Not at all. I am going to ask you to do me a service." Arnold was suddenly conscious that Sabatini, for the first time since he had known him, was in earnest. The lines of his marble-white face seemed to have grown tenser and firmer, his manner was the manner of a man who meets a crisis. "Turn your head and look inland," he said. "You follow the lane there?" Arnold nodded. "Quite well," he admitted. "At the corner," Sabatini continued, "just out of sight behind that tall hedge, is my motor car. I want you to land and make your way there. My chauffeur has his instructions. He will take you to a village some eight miles up the river, a village called Heslop Wood. There is a boat-builder's yard at the end of the main street. You will hire a boat and row up the river. About three hundred yards up, on the left hand side, is an old, dismantled-looking house-boat. I want you to board it and search it thoroughly." Sabatini paused, and Arnold looked at him, perplexed. "Search it!" he exclaimed. "But for whom? For what?"