For the first time he became conscious, however, of
something which seemed almost like a secret understanding between
his sister and his fianc?e.
"Tell Mr. Lessingham I shall be with him in a minute or two, if he
will kindly wait," Philippa instructed.
"Who is Mr. Lessingham?" Richard enquired, as soon as the door had
closed behind Mills. "Seems a queer time to call."
Helen glanced at Philippa, whose lips framed a decided negative.
"Mr. Lessingham is a gentleman staying in the neighbourhood," the
latter replied. "You will probably make his acquaintance before
long. Incidentally, he saved Henry's life the other night."
"Sounds exciting," Richard observed. "What form of destruction
was Henry courting?"
"There was a trawler shipwrecked in the storm," Philippa explained.
"You can see it from all the front windows. Henry was on board,
returning from one of his fishing excursions. They were trying to
find Dumble's anchorage and were driven in on to that low ridge of
rock. A rope broke, or something, they had no more rockets, and
Mr. Lessingham swam out with the line."
"Sounds like a plucky chap," Richard admitted.
Philippa rose to her feet regretfully.
"I expect he has come to wish us good-by," she said. "I'll leave
you with Helen, Dick. Don't let her overfeed you. And you know
where the cigars are, Helen.
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