"I walked with him for an hour in the Park," Pamela replied. "He seemed quite cheerful. I have scarcely thanked you yet for returning the pocketbook, have I?"
His face was inscrutable.
"Couldn't keep a thing that didn't belong to me, could I?" he observed.
"You have a marvellous gift for discovering lost property," she murmured.
"For discovering the owners, you mean," he retorted, with a little bow.
"You're some golfer, I see, Mr. Lutchester," Van Teyl interposed.
"I was on my game to-day," Lutchester admitted. "With a little luck at the seventh," he continued earnestly, "I might have tied the amateur record. You see, my ball—but there, I mustn't bore you now. I must look after my opponent and stand him a drink. We shall meet again, I daresay."
Lutchester passed on, and Pamela glanced up at her brother.
"Is he a sphinx or a fool?" she whispered.
"Don't ask me," Van Teyl replied. "Seems to me you were a bit rough on him, anyway. I don't see why the fellow shouldn't have a day's holiday before he gets to work. If I had his swing, it would interfere with my career, I know that, well enough."