His inquisitor nodded and cantered away. Lessingham looked after him until he had disappeared, then he turned his face towards Dreymarsh and walked steadily into the lowering afternoon. Twilight was falling as he reached Mainsail Haul, where he found Philippa entertaining some callers, to whom she promptly introduced him. Lessingham gathered, almost in the first few minutes, that his presence in Dreymarsh was becoming a subject of comment. “My husband has played bridge with you at the club, I think,” a lady by whose side he found himself observed. “You perhaps didn't hear my name--Mrs. Johnson?” “I congratulate you upon your husband,” Lessingham replied. “I remember him perfectly well because he kept his temper when I revoked.” “Dear me!” she exclaimed. “He must have taken a fancy to you, then. As a rule, they rather complain about him at bridge.” “I formed the impression,” Lessingham continued, “that he was rather a better player than the majority of the performers there.” Mrs. Johnson, who was a dark and somewhat forbidding-looking lady, smiled. “He thinks so, at any rate,” she conceded. “Didn't he tell me that you were invalided home from the front?” Lessingham shook his head. “I am quite sure that it was not mentioned,” he said. “We walked home together as far as the hotel one evening, but we spoke only of the golf and some shooting in the neighbourhood.” Philippa, who had been maneuvering to attract Lessingham's attention, suddenly dropped the cake basket which she was passing. There was a little commotion. Lessingham went down on his hands and knees to help collect the fragments, and she found an opportunity to whisper in his ear. “Be careful. That woman is a cat. Stay and talk to me. Please don't bother, Mr. Lessingham. Won't you ring the bell instead?” she continued, raising her voice. Lessingham did as he was asked, and affected not to notice Mrs. Johnson's inviting smile as he returned. Philippa made room for him by her side. “Helen and I were talking this afternoon, Mr. Lessingham,” she said, “of the days when you and Dick were both in the Magdalen Eleven and both had just a chance of being chosen for the Varsity. You never played, did you?” He shook his head. “No such luck. In any case, Richard would have been in well before me. I always maintained that he was the first of our googlie bowlers.” “So you were at Magdalen with Major Felstead?” another caller remarked in mild wonder. “Mr. Lessingham and my brother were great friends,” Philippa explained. “Mr. Lessingham used to come down to shoot in Cheshire.” Lady Cranston's guests were all conscious of a little indefinable disappointment. The gossip concerning this stranger's appearance in Dreymarsh was practically strangled. Mrs. Johnson, however, fired a parting shot as she rose to go. “You were not in the same regiment as Major Felstead, were you, Mr. Lessingham?” she asked. “No,” he answered calmly.