The entrance of a green valley, where the Easedale beck came down from Easedale Tarn, stood a wayside hostelry: a spruce gray villa overflowing with flowers. The Easedale Hotel was well-run, a rarity in English inns.

Harry Gardiner, the owner, was a slight young man with dark eyes and a quarter Spanish blood. Denis Merion-Smith, a partner in an aeroplane firm, joined him on the veranda. Gardiner revealed he had sold the Easedale Hotel and planned to leave in October.

Denis was surprised, questioning Gardiner's decision to give up the well-established hotel. Gardiner explained he was searching for his ideal place and had found it on the Semois River. He described the stunning location with passion, expressing his deep connection to the river.

Gardiner's enthusiasm for the Semois River captured Denis's attention, painting a vivid picture of the scenic beauty that had won Gardiner's heart."Hills--!" said Denis. "I've asked you: where is this place?"

"The Ardennes. Belgian Luxemburg. Close to the French frontier and twenty miles from Sedan."

"Well, I suppose you know your own business best," said Denis for the second time--it was plain he supposed nothing of the kind--"but I'd not settle there if you paid me."

"Why on earth not? Oh ah, of course! the German menace, isn't it? Well, if they come, I shall suffer with my adopted country, that's all."

"If you'd spent a year in Germany, as I have, and seen what I did, you'd not laugh," said Denis, patiently and obstinately. The German danger was one of his hobbies. It was surprising that, with so many hoary prejudices, he should ever have taken up with a new-fangled science like aeronautics; but who is consistent?

"I'm not laughing, my dear chap. You know more about it than I do, and if you say it's on the cards I believe you. But they're not coming to-day, are they? and _mañana es otro día_. Meanwhile I go ahead with my Bellevue (that's to be the name of it: beautifully banal, what?) and trust to luck. It hasn't served me badly so far. Besides, I don't stand to lose much. I like money all right, but I'm not a slave to that or anything else. If I lose every penny to-morrow I shouldn't put myself about--except for daddy's sake; and after all he's not actually dependent on me, I only supply the amenities. Yes; bar accidents, I can pretty well defy Fate."

He stretched himself complacently, 

  P 1/255 next