Charles Ford

“ RIPLEY sang aloud in pure joy as the bladelike bow of his racing canoe slipped through the water. The wind was northwest and puffy, and the lake showed a lively blue and white under the sky. As he came about, over to windward he could see the green of the golf links slanting up from the water's edge and the white clubhouse gleaming through the trees; overhead the white and tinted clouds sailed before the wind, hardly dimming the sunshine. ”

“ A ducking was the least of his troubles; he was used to it. But this time something went wrong. His head struck a spar; and when at last he found himself swimming easily toward the boathouse that showed its gay awnings in a little cove below the clubhouse, he thought he must have been unconscious for a minute or two. ”

“ A tall man, with a long, clean-shaven, pleasant face sat down beside him, nursing between his knees a formidable outfit of clubs. There was something about him that stirred Ripley's recollections, but he couldn’t place him. Ripley nodded, however, and the stranger greeted him pleasantly.
"I don't think I’ve met you before. You're Mr. Ripley, aren't you? My name's Longdon."
Ripley stared a little. Where had he heard of Longdon? There was a famous racing-canoe man of that name ”