He was a little old man, gray as a badger, with stooped shoulders, and a cross-looking face. Without vouchsafing a look in Claude's direction, he prepared his fishing tackle and began industriously to whip the stream. Hardly knowing how to break the ice, Larcher silently continued his sport, and the two, divided by the water, stood like statues on opposite banks. After a time Denis, who had been cunningly taking stock of Claude, and wondering why his letter had not produced the effect intended, moved down to where the stream narrowed itself between large stones. Determined to invent some excuse for speaking, Larcher followed after a time, and stepped out on to a bowlder, apparently to throw his line into a likely looking pool. Being within reach, he flung his line, and the next moment it was entangled in that of Kerry's. "I'm sorry! Quite an accident," said Claude, noting the wrath on Kerry's face. "Let me disentangle it." He jumped into the brown water and, before Kerry could make any objection, was across on the other side, gripping the lines. Without a word the Irishman let him separate the two lines, and then busied himself with fixing a fly. Nettled at this determined silence Claude spoke. "I wish to speak with you," he said, tapping the other on the shoulder. "Is it to me ye speak?" replied Kerry, with an admirable look of surprise; "and what has the like of you, sir, to say to me?" "A great deal. Do you know who I am?" "Sure, an' I do, sir. The friend of Mr. Tait, you are no less." "But my name. Do you know it?" "Bad luck to this stream, there's never a fish in it," grumbled Kerry, with a convenient attack of deafness. Claude was in nowise angered. "That is very clever, Kerry," he said; "but----" "An' how do you know my name is Kerry?" "Are you surprised that I should know it?" "I am that," replied Kerry sharply. "I never set eyes on you before." "Oh, yes, you did--twenty-five years ago." "Begorra, that's a lie, anyhow!" muttered Kerry, under his breath, with an uneasy wriggle. "It is not a lie, and you know it, my man," said Larcher firmly; "it is no use your pretending ignorance. I know who you are." "Devil a doubt of it! Kerry, you called me." "Yes! Because you are known by that name here. But at Horriston----" Claude stopped. He saw the hands of the old man grip the rod so tight that the knuckles whitened. The name had produced the effect he intended. So, almost without a pause, he continued, and aimed another blow at Kerry's imperturbability. "At Horriston," he resumed, "you were known as Denis Bantry." "Was I, now?" said Kerry, prepared for the attack. "Augh, to think of it! And where might Horriston be, sir?" "You ought to know that, Denis." "Your honor will be after giving me the name of a friend of yours."