"Cave," hissed Tommy, from the water.
I held my breath, and sure enough there were voices along the path, and close at hand, too.
I made a desperate leap, and entered the water with a quite colossal flop, for I am moderately stout.
And, even so, I had barely time to wade in up to my neck, before two figures, those of a little girl and a young lady, tripped into sight.
"Why," said the little girl, "there's old Mr. Mathews and a little boy in the pool. How funny."
The young lady—it was Lady Chantrey's governess—hesitated a moment and then courageously held on.
"Yes," I heard her say. "It certainly is peculiar, quite peculiar."
Whether she referred to me, or the situation, or an affair of previous conversation, I did not know.
I did not, indeed, much care, for surely this was enough that I, a philosopher of dignity, a bachelor of some importance, at any rate in Camslove, should have been seen in a small pool, with only a draggled head above the surface, by Lady Chantrey's daughter, and her governess.