Spencer did not wait for any interpretation. "Hold on," he said quietly. "What is he going to do now? Work, for a man of his years, doesn't grow on gooseberry bushes, I suppose." "Christian, Christian! You are hot-headed as a boy," cried the manager. "The fact is," he went on, "he came to me to offer his services. But I have already engaged more drivers than I need, and I am dismissing some stable men. Perhaps he can find a job in St. Moritz." "Are his days as guide ended?" "Unfortunately, yes. I believe he is as active as ever; but people won't credit it. And you cannot blame them. When one's safety depends on a man who may have to cling to an ice covered rock like a fly to a window-pane, one is apt to distrust a crooked leg." "Did he have an accident?" The manager hesitated. "It is part of his sad history," he said. "He fell, and nearly killed himself; but he was hurrying to see the last of a daughter to whom he was devoted." "Is he a local man, then?" "No. Oh, no! The girl happened to be here when the end came." "Well, I guess he will suit my limited requirements in the fly and window-pane business while I remain in Maloja," said Spencer. "Tell him I am willing to put up ten francs a day and extras for his exclusive services as guide during my stay." Poor Stampa was nearly overwhelmed by this unexpected good fortune. In his agitation he blurted out, "Ah, then, the good God did really send an angel to my help this morning!" Spencer, however, reviewing his own benevolence over a pipe outside the hotel, expressed the cynical opinion that the hot sun was affecting his brain. "I'm on a loose end," he communed. "Next time I waft myself to Europe on a steamer I'll bring my mother. It would be a bully fine notion to cable for her right away. I want someone to take care of me. It looks as if I had a cinch on running this hotel gratis. What in thunder will happen next?" He could surely have answered that query if he had the least inkling of the circumstances governing Helen's prior meeting with Stampa. As it was, the development of events followed the natural course. While Spencer strolled off by the side of the lake, the old guide lumbered into the village street, and waited there, knowing that he would waylay the _bella Inglesa_ on her return. Though she came from the chateau and not from Cavloccio, he did not fail to see her.