Chapter Nine'This is Knighton Hazard,' I stopped outside the eighteenth century mansion with the great sweeping stairs that led to the front door and the worn stone pediment above. 'Sometimes we call it the dragon house because of the dragon weather-vane,' I pointed upward in case David did not know where we Wight people habitually place weather-vanes.
'That is a good name,' David said, 'and this is a fine establishment. Who owns it?'
'Mr Hugo Bertram,' I said. 'He is an interesting man who has tried to encourage couples to marry in his private chapel. I don't know if anybody had ever agreed, though.'
'Oh, I see; how kind of him,' David's habitual smile broadened. 'What an amiable fellow.'
'Mr Bertram got married in there, as did his father and grandfather,' I said, cleverly taking Dav
