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Leading
the way through his dewy, rose-grown garden, and conversing amicably as
he went, he escorted Macfarlane and Duprez to what he called with a
gentle humor his "Bee-Metropolis," while Errington and Lorimer returned
to the shore of the Fjord, where they had left their boat moored to a
small, clumsily constructed pier,--and entering it, they set themselves
to the oars and pulled away together with the long, steady, sweeping
stroke rendered famous by the exploits of the Oxford and Cambridge men.
After some twenty minutes' rowing, Lorimer looked up and spoke as he
drew his blade swiftly through the bright green water.
"I feel as though I were aiding and abetting you in some crime, Phil.
You know, my first impression of this business remains the same. You had
much better leave it alone."
"Why?" asked Errington coolly.
"Well, 'pon my life I don't know why. Except that, from long experience,
I have proved that it's always dangerous and troublesome to run after a
woman. Leave her to run after you--she'll do it fast enough.


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