When the vicar left him John Musgrave returned to the fire and stood beside Diogenes on the rug, staring thoughtfully down into the flames. In the heart of the flames he saw a picture of an upturned face, of a pair of darkly grey eyes gazing earnestly into his. "You are so kind, so very kind." The words repeated themselves in his memory. "I wish there was something I could do for you..." John Musgrave stirred restlessly. Were the words sincere, he wondered? They had been sincere at the time, he knew; but possibly they had been prompted by the gratitude of the moment; and gratitude is no more enduring than any other quality. He glanced at Diogenes, who, with a much-wrinkled brow, was also contemplating the flames. "I think it would be extortionate to demand payment for the service, Diogenes," he said. Diogenes looked up and snorted approval. "It is, after all, a privilege to feel that one has rendered some service and has received her thanks. I don't think it would be fair--to her--to expect more." CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. May was well advanced before the Chadwicks returned from their wanderings. They came home unexpectedly towards the middle of the month, cutting short their stay in London because certain matters in Moresby called imperatively for Mrs Chadwick's immediate attention; and Peggy, for another reason which she did not explain, was very ready to fling aside the holiday mood and return to work. The first intimation John Musgrave received of the Chadwicks' return came from the fountain head, being conveyed to him in a manner and at a moment when, glad though he was to learn that the family was home again, he would have preferred to have remained in ignorance until a more favourable opportunity. As matters fell out, however, he made the best of them, and wore as composed a mien as possible in face of an embarrassing situation. Mr Musgrave was starting out for his customary morning walk in Diogenes' company when outside his gate he came very unexpectedly full upon Will Chadwick. Had Diogenes' memory been less faithful the meeting might have passed off without awkwardness; but Diogenes, recognising his former master, became so wildly effusive in his welcome that Mr Chadwick during the first few moments could not disentangle himself from the dog's excited embraces, or return Mr Musgrave's greeting. He laughed when finally he shook John Musgrave's hand. "Your dog seems to have taken a violent fancy to me," he said. "Quiet, Diogenes!" Mr Musgrave commanded unthinkingly. "Down, sir!" Will Chadwick looked at Diogenes, and from the dog to Mr Musgrave. Then he looked again at Diogenes more attentively. There was in the protracted scrutiny, in the queer glint in the indolent blue eyes, a hint of something very like suspicion, as though Mr Musgrave's ingenuousness were being questioned. King's face, when Mr Musgrave took the dog into Rushleigh for purposes of the toilet, wore much the same expression.