“You must remember,” he explained suavely, “that it was built by my grandfather, and that we have had rights over the whole of the foreshore here from time immemorial. I know quite well that my brother gave it to your father--or rather he sold it to him for a nominal sum. I must tell you that it was a most complicated transaction. He had the greatest difficulty in getting any lawyer to draft the deed of sale. There were so many ancient rights and privileges which it was impossible to deal with. Even now there are grave doubts as to the validity of the transaction. When nothing was heard of you, and we all concluded that you were dead, I ventured to take back what I honestly believed to be my own. Owing,” he continued slowly, “to my unfortunate affliction, I am obliged to depend for interest in my life upon various hobbies. This little place, queerly enough, has become one of them. I have furnished it, in a way; installed the telephone to the house, connected it with my electric plant, and I come down here when I want to be quite alone, and paint. I watch the sea--such a sea sometimes, such storms, such colour! You notice that ridge of sand out yonder? It forms a sort of natural breakwater. Even on the calmest day you can trace that white line of foam.” “It is a strange coast,” Hamel admitted. Mr. Fentolin pointed with his forefinger northwards. “Somewhere about there,” he indicated, “is the entrance to the tidal river which flows up to the village of St. David’s yonder. You see?” His finger traced its course until it came to a certain point near the beach, where a tall black pillar stood, surmounted by a globe. “I have had a light fixed there for the benefit of the fishermen,” he said, “a light which I work from my own dynamo. Between where we are sitting now and there--only a little way out to sea--is a jagged cluster of cruel rocks. You can see them if you care to swim out in calm weather. Fishermen who tried to come in by night were often trapped there and, in a rough sea, drowned. That is why I had that pillar of light built. On stormy nights it shows the exact entrance to the water causeway.” “Very kind of you indeed,” Hamel remarked, “very benevolent.” Mr. Fentolin sighed.