He was a potent adventurer, but extremely well-liked. No one ever said anything bad about him, though he was often depressed and sometimes cross; but it was when he was down that he showed his mettle. (7) When he got his good nature back, his straightforward personality was really a gem. (7) His given name was Reed and he came from an old French Huguenot family, who took pride in knowing that their line bore Reed Tresor. But they, alas, were cryptic folk, and Reed’s whole being rebelled in their presence. He knew he’d have to find all the best reasons to stay in contact with them.

His early schooling was typical of the rich and established: he learned the usual skills, finding a great deal of pleasure in those activities a life on the seacoast provided. When he reached his majority, he joined the military, and became a SCUBA diver, a real swimming military man. His diving ability was truly top-notch, and when he entered competitions in the USA, he usually took first place; he was number one in Arizona, (his most relished accomplishment!) number two in Alaska, and in the top ten in the other state competitions, but despite these accolades, we heard that he would still feel regret that he existed at all. It was truly incomprehensible! When asked, however, he downplayed his depression—“Did I moan?” he asked us. “Not I. I found it to be the hardest thing I’ve ever known, but I kept my feelings to myself!” What a shining example! (10, 5, 4, 7)

After being discharged from the service, he settled into an easier, more domestic lifestyle. He learned to cook by watching television food network shows—one particular chef caught his fancy with his fiery personality, and spicy, but elegant, dishes. He would go to sleep at night thinking of dishes to make that would make this chef say “Bam!” But these things weren’t fulfilling enough. He longed for further adventure, as a traveler, or a lumberjack, or even a firefighter. Though fanciful, he could even imagine all three occupations at once: going far away to fight a blaze caused by tree juices that had ignited spontaneously. The thought made him laugh, and he told his secretary, Miss Lowell, about the daydream one day. She laughed with him, (admiring his deep violet eyes at the same time!) and while so besotted, walked off into the city and got herself promptly lost! She had to phone Reed for directions, and the two giggled a long time on their cell phones as he directed her back to the office. “Left--Right! No—now right again down the—no, Miss Lowell! The Avenue! You’re all mixed up!” Their shared adventure was like a jewel in her lonely existence—she sparkled for days afterward. (7, 8,

But these gentle good times came to an end soon enough. Weary of cooking, Reed sought competition again, this time on a local soccer league. He wanted to know the feeling he felt when he’d watched the World Cup, and hear the word that meant he had Scored!! A kick to the midsection nearly brought him down permanently, though—leaving him with a couple of messed up organs near the stomach, which took a while to heal. It was while he was laid up with the pain that he caught a bad case of lice, and when Miss Lowell, ever present and always helpful, gave him a new cure made from a common fruit, he decided that perhaps he would one day ask for her hand in marriage, since she was so attentive to his every need. But it was in one of those small purple fruits that a louse egg returned and tormented with the itch, he gave up any ideas of wedlock and decided to leave the country altogether—as soon as he was cured! (4, 6,

He left for Africa, and joined the Foreign Legion. They gave him uniforms, but his side still hurt, so he had to buy a truss. He found out soon that supporting garments start small, and that he was large. The trusses he got did not fit, and that caused him to complain vociferously. It could stir up naught but the shortest battalion to listen to his complaints. (5, 6)

The Legion gave awards to their best mercenaries, and Reed vied for these prizes, as he would search across and down every continent for the real treasures—but the Legion’s awards—the Award for Righteousness, the Award for Rifle Marksmanship, and the Award for Reading Orders—were ever elusive. He gave it up finally, and in his family’s estates outside the small village of la Tresor, he boarded a yacht which would sail the Mediterranean Sea for more satisfying climes. And that’s when our story takes the saddest turn of all. It seems that some of his fellow Legionnaires had charted a yacht as well. These cocky sailors all had their Legion awards prominently displayed on the deck of their craft, where Reed’s clipper did not. But I have told you that he was well-liked. He was. And he soon gathered a flotilla of yachts to outshine his colleague’s: they called themselves Clippers Without R’s—in defiance of the “R” awards decorating the Legionnaire’s boastful yawl. It caused a huge uproar. The Legionnaires were outraged, and highly insulted, and blew up Reed’s boat with a pipe bomb. When the fire was extinguished and the hubbub had died down, all that was left of the beautiful fleet was a piece of mast, a tatter of canvas, and about three quarters of the business end of a fork, sticking out of a shard of teak decking. (6, 3)

What a sad end to a life filled with hidden assets that ought to have been discovered! Perhaps by reading very carefully, you can or will be able to discover them—and bear Reed Tresor’s shame no longer!

Clues available by PM if you are stumped.