We must row."
An awning of red silk screened off the rays of the sun; the
appointments of the small boat--the polished wood of rare texture,
morocco leather cushions, and elaborate fittings--bespoke the taste or
at least the income of a Sybarite. A grizzly brown sailor and his
curly-pated son were the oarsmen; in the stern sat a couple of Keith's
attendants, whom Mr. Heard might have mistaken for two Green genii but
for the fact that between them lay an enormous and hideously modern
receptacle of wicker-work which impaired the illusion. It troubled the
bishop, both by reason of its incongruity and because he could not
divine what its purpose might be, till Keith solved the mystery by
saying:
"I thought I would like to see for myself about this fountain of Saint
Elias and, incidentally, enjoy a little al fresco luncheon by the
shore. Now I wonder whether there will be enough food for both of us in
the basket?"
"That thing? Dear me. I thought it might contain a cottage piano. What
fountain?"
"You haven't heard anything? Nothing at all?"
He outlined the events of the preceding day.
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