'By all means,' said Sir Roger, to whom I looked, as St. Mabyn spoke. 'I can send you over in the car.'
The next day, about eleven o'clock, I started to pay my promised visit, and passed through the same beautiful countryside which had so appealed to me before. I found that St. Mabyn's house was not quite so large as Granitelands, but it was a place to rejoice in nevertheless. It was approached by a long avenue of trees, which skirted park lands where deer disported themselves. Giant oaks studded the park, and the house, I judged, was built in the Elizabethan period. An air of comfort and homeliness was everywhere; the grey walls were lichen-covered, and the diamond-paned, stone-mullioned windows seemed to suggest security and peace.
'I wonder why he wanted me to come here?' I reflected, as the car drew up at the old, ivy-covered porch.
I stood at the window of the room into which I had been shown, looking over the flower-beds towards the beautiful landscape. Devonshire has been called the Queen of the English counties, perhaps not without reason. Even my beloved Cornwall could provide no fairer sight than that which spread itself before me. For a coast scenery, Cornwall is unrivalled in the whole of England, but for sweet, rustic loveliness, I had to confess that we had nothing to surpass what I saw that day.
Mile after mile of field, and woodland, in undulating beauty, spread themselves out before me, while away in the distance was a fringe of rocky tors and wild moor-land.
At the bottom of the hill on the side of which the house stood ran a clear, sparkling river, which wound itself away down the valley like a ribbon of silver, hidden only here and there by trees and brushwood.
So enamoured was I that I stood like one entranced, and did not notice the two men who had entered, until St. Mabyn spoke.
Captain Horace Springfield was a tall, dark, lean man from thirty to thirty-five years of age, and from what I learnt afterwards, had spent a great deal of time abroad. Although still young, his intensely black hair was becoming tinged with grey, and his deeply-lined cheeks, and somewhat sunken eyes made him look older than he really was. Although he was home on sick leave, he showed no sign of weakness; his every movement suggested strength and decision.