"I stopped last night with a friend in Grove Park," Nevill answered, after a brief hesitation, "and feeling a bit seedy this morning, I came for a stroll along the river. I hear of a gallant rescue from the water, and, of course, you are the hero, Jack. Is the young lady all right?"
"I believe so."
"Do you know who she is?"
"Miss Madge Poster, sir," spoke up the landlord, "and I can assure you she was very nearly drowned—"
"Not so bad as that," modestly protested Jack.
Victor Nevill's face had changed color again, and for a second there was a troubled look in his eyes. He spoke the girl's name carelessly, then added in hurried tones:
"You must get into dry clothes at once, Jack, or you will be ill—"
"Just what I told him, sir," interrupted the landlord. "Young men will be reckless."
"I am going back to town to keep an engagement," Nevill resumed. "Can I do anything for you?"
"If you will, old chap," Jack said gratefully. "Stop at my studio," giving him the address, "and send my man Alphonse here with a dry rig."