beer. If he had to pay five shillings for his drink he felt entitled to quench his thirst.

"Perhaps you know Mrs. Eames, sir," said Hinton, pouring out the beer. "A remarkable lady, Mrs. Eames, if I may say so without disrespect. A very remarkable lady, though a little trying at times to the vicar."

Sir Evelyn took no more interest in Mrs. Eames than he did in the vicar. He was not a rural dean, nor an archdeacon, and his visit to Hailey Compton had nothing to do with the church.

"But of course not, sir," said Hinton. "It's not to be expected that you would know Mrs. Eames or the vicar."

Then he waited, hoping to hear what had brought Sir Evelyn to Hailey Compton. He was not disappointed.

"I understand," said Sir Evelyn, "that there is a remarkable sea cave in this neighbourhood."

James Hinton talked fluently and agreeably about the cave. He described its position and how to get to it. He congratulated Sir Evelyn on having arrived in Hailey Compton at a fortunate hour.

"Not altogether fortunate, sir, as regards the beer. But if you wish to visit the cave you could hardly have come at a better time."

The cave, it appeared, was accessible on foot only between half-tide and low water. At other times it must be approached by boat, and landing, except in calm weather, was difficult.

"According to local tradition, sir, the cave was at one time largely used by smugglers. But no doubt you know more about that than I do."

Sir Evelyn did. He knew more about the Hailey Compton cave, indeed more about all smugglers' caves on our coasts, than any man in England.

Having been forced, by a turn of the political wheel to leave office, he had retired to a pleasant old Manor House, once the property of his aunt, Lady Mildred Dent. It stood surrounded by gardens, some twenty miles from Hailey Compton. It had the advantage of being in the middle of the constituency which had lately rejected Sir Evelyn, which might, he hoped would, ultimately change its mind. There he settled down contentedly enough with his pictures, his old prints, his books and manuscripts, until such time as he could appeal to the voters again.

Sir Evelyn had spent his adult life in making laws and arranging for their administration. It was perhaps not unnatural that he should have cherished a secret love and admiration for law breakers. If a bishop were to tell the naked truth about himself he would probably say that what he looked forward to most in heaven was the chance of intimacy with heretics. A doctor, in hours of relaxation and influenced by good wine, will confess to a liking for quacks and a contempt for orthodox methods of cure.

Sir Evelyn's affections went out to the smugglers of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, bold defiers of law every one of them. He had gathered a small library about smugglers and made a collection of pictures and prints illustrating their ways. It was his intention to devote his years, or months, of leisure—the period during which the life of Parliament was denied him—to the production of a complete illustrated history of English smuggling. The thing has never been done, and Sir Evelyn felt it was due to the memory of a number of adventurous men that it should be done sympathetically.

He intended, in course of time, to visit and photograph all the genuine smugglers' caves there were. He had already made a list of them, carefully eliminating those whose connection with smugglers was uncertain. It was chiefly with a view to visiting the caves that he had bought and more or less learned to drive his motor. His plan was to spend the summer, perhaps several summers, in investigating the caves one by one. During the winter he meant to arrange the material collected, make extracts from books, and in due time actually write the great history.

The Hailey Compton cave, an unquestionably genuine haunt of eighteenth century smugglers, was first on his list. He reached it—as has been already noted—early in May after a drive of some peril.

"Perhaps, sir," said Hinton, "you may be returning here for luncheon after your visit to the cave. I can scarcely recommend it though I shall do my best. This is a poor house, sir, not at all what you're accustomed to. I can scarcely venture to promise more than a slice of cold beef, a cut off the Sunday joint, with some bread and cheese. The cheese, if I may say so, is excellent. But perhaps you will prefer to lunch at the vicarage. Mrs. Eames is a very hospitable lady, sir, and I may take it upon myself to say that she will be delighted to entertain you."

"I shall lunch here," said Sir Evelyn, "on whatever you can give me."

"Very good, sir, I merely mentioned the vicarage because I thought you might like to meet Mrs. Eames. A very remarkable lady, sir."

"I do not want to meet Mrs. Eames," said Sir Evelyn. "And I shall not lunch at the vicarage."

Here Sir Evelyn's guardian angel smiled again. How far these beings arrange our future for us is uncertain, but there is no doubt that they know what is going to happen to us some time ahead. When they hear us asserting confidently that we are going to do something, or not going to do it, they are amused, being aware that our plans have very little to do with what actually happens. Sir Evelyn's angel knew perfectly well that his ward would lunch that day at the vicarage, that he would meet Mrs. Eames, and that consequences of the most unexpected kind would follow. His smile died wholly away when he reflected that it would be his business to extricate Sir Evelyn from the tangled difficulties in which he was soon to be involved, which began with his visit to the Hailey Compton Vicarage.

Chapter II

Sir Evelyn left the Anchor Inn, took his camera from the car and set out on the way which Hinton had described to him.

It was not a very pleasant way. It first passed along the village street which smelt of decaying fish and was strewed with empty lobster pots, broken spars and disused oars. Here he was stared at with unblinking hostility by a number of men who leaned against the walls of cottages with their hands in their pockets. He was surveyed apparently with amused dislike by women who came to the doors with babies in their arms. He would have been giggled at by children if they had not all been shut up at school at that hour.

Having reached the end of the street he skirted a slimy and very smelly boat haven beyond which he reached a space of coarse grass. Here nets were spread out to dry and long rows of geese paraded solemnly. Sir Evelyn picked his way among the nets and tried to be indifferent to the geese which stretched out their necks and hissed at him. Having crossed the grass he climbed the sea wall and dropped down on a stony beach. It was a disagreeable beach covered with round white stones. Some of these were about the size of potatoes. They rolled when Sir Evelyn trod on them and he ran some risk of spraining his ankles. Others were larger, about the size of field turnips, and they were coated with pale green weed. Sir Evelyn slipped when he walked on one of them.

At the back, the shoreward end of the beach, the cliffs rose abruptly to a plateau on which the church stood. A hundred yards or so from the village green was the cave. Sir Evelyn, stumbling doggedly on, reached it slightly out of breath.

A surprise waited him. Under the huge arch which formed the entrance of the cave is a pool, ten or twelve feet deep, large enough to hold a fair sized fishing smack. The rocks at the side of the pool are