"Say, Graeme, will you have me as best man?"
"Delighted, my dear fellow. Miss Penny has been breaking her heart at thought of having no partner at the ceremony."
"Right! Then we'll say no more about it. How did you all come to meet here? Put-up job?"
"Not a bit of it," said Graeme. "Pure coincidence—or Providence, we'll say. You remember that Whitefriars' dinner, when Adam Black sat opposite to us? He was just back from Sark, and he said, 'If ever you want relief from your fellows—try Sark.' Well, later on, I had no reason to believe there was anything between you and Margaret, and I called on your father at his office. He sliced me into scraps with his eye-glass and flung the bits out into Lincoln's Inn,"—at which Charles Svendt grinned amusedly, as though he were familiar with the process.—"I wanted to get away somewhere to piece up again. Sark came into my head, and I came. A month later my landlady told me she had let my rooms to two ladies, as she had understood I was only stopping for a month, and I had to turn out and come up here. And, to my vast amazement, the two ladies proved to be Margaret and Miss Penny. How is that for coincidence?"
"I was standing in the hedge there," said Margaret, "early in the morning of the day after we got here, and Jock came leaping over the dyke there with a great brown dog, and stopped as if he'd been shot—"
"I thought you were a ghost, you see."
"And I couldn't believe my eyes. Then I asked him what he meant by following us here, and it turned out that it was we who had followed him, and turned him out of his cottage moreover."
"Deuced odd!" said Charles Svendt, screwing in his eye-glass and regarding them comprehensively. "Almost makes one believe in—er—"
"Telepathy and that kind of thing," said Miss Penny.
"Er—exactly—just so, don't you know!" and his glance rested on her with appreciation as upon a kindred soul.