The Russian, for it was really he, strode up the rock, staring about him as he came, and halted before Joan and Elspeth.
"Is this the keepair's wife?" he demanded of Elspeth, who had risen to greet him.
"Yes," she assented meekly. "Do you wish to see my husband?"
"No, no, do not trobble him," said the Count. "I wish to make a sketch from his landing, of the bay. I have permission?"
"I'm afraid that would be against Government rules just now," said Elspeth, "but Mr. Pemberley will speak to you about it."
The Count settled himself on the rock and opened his sketch-box tentatively.
"He takes us for natives and treats us as such," whispered Elspeth at the door. "He nearly said, 'my good woman'!"
No sooner had she stepped inside the house than the visitor began preparations for sketching. Joan, who still sat beside the garden-boxes, lifted a surprised eyebrow, but decided that remonstrance was not her business.
The Russian was wielding a large brush with astonishing results. He daubed his canvas in divers-colored patches which he then proceeded to surround by heavy black outlines and green
