He came to the foot of the hill and to Bottom Bridge. The bridge divided his fishing from Mr Danberry-Phinn’s; he had the lower reaches and Mr Phinn the upper. It was about the waters exactly under Bottom Bridge that they had fallen out. The Colonel crossed from Mr Phinn’s side to his own, folded his arms on the stone parapet and gazed into the sliding green world beneath. At first he stared absently but after a moment his attention sharpened. In the left bank of the Chyne near a broken-down boat shed where an old punt was moored, there was a hole. In its depths eddied and lurked a shadow among shadows; the Old ’Un. ‘Perhaps,’ the Colonel thought, ‘perhaps it would ease my mind a bit if I came down before dinner. He may stay on my side.’ He withdrew his gaze from the Old ’Un to find when he looked up at Jacob’s Cottage, that Mr Phinn, motionless, with his cat still on his shoulder, was looking at him through a pair of field-glasses.

‘Ah, hell!’ muttered the Colonel. He crossed the bridge and passed out of sight of Jacob’s Cottage and continued on his way home.

The path crossed a narrow meadow and climbed the lower reach of Watt’s Hill. His own coppice and Commander Syce’s spinney concealed from the Colonel the upper portions of the three demesnes. Someone was coming down the path at a heavy jog-trot. He actually heard the wheezing and puffing of this person and recognized the form of locomotion practised by Mr Phinn before the latter appeared wearing an old Norfolk jacket and tweed hat which, in addition to being stuck about with trout-fishing flies, had Mr Phinn’s reading spectacles thrust through the band like an Irishman’s pipe. He was carrying his elaborate collection of fishing impediments. He had the air of having got himself together in a hurry and was attended by Mrs Thomasina Twitchett, who, after the manner of her kind, suggested that their association was purely coincidental.

The path was narrow. It was essential that someone should give way and the Colonel, sick of rows with his neighbours, stood on one side. Mr Phinn jogged glassily down upon him. The cat suddenly cantered ahead.

‘Hallo, old girl,’ said the Colonel. He stooped down and snapped a finger and thumb at her. She stared briefly and passed him with a preoccupied air, twitching the tip of her tail.

The Colonel straightened up and found himself face to face with Mr Phinn.

‘Good evening,’ said the Colonel.

‘Sir,’ said Mr Phinn. He touched his dreadful hat with one finger, blew out his cheeks and advanced. ‘Thomasina,’ he added, ‘hold your body more seemly.’

For Thomasina, waywardly taken with the Colonel, had returned and rolled on her back at his feet.