THE MAN WITH A MOTIVE Mannering sat alone in the shade of his cedar tree.

He had walked in his rose-garden amongst a wilderness of drooping blossoms, for the season of roses was gone.

He had crossed the marshland seawards, only to find a little crowd of holiday-makers in possession of the golf links and the green tufted stretch of sandy shore.

The day had been long, almost irksome.

A fit of restlessness had driven him from his study.