She shook her head. "I don't know. Perhaps we shall never meet after this." She pulled her hand away and stood looking up into my face with wide-open, unhappy eyes. "In any case," she said, "whatever happens, will you always remember that I tried to help you?"
As she spoke she turned away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the restaurant. The next moment she had stepped out through the open door, and disappeared into the stream of people that hurried ceaselessly past.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Ross enviously. "You are a lucky ruffian!"
We had halted the car at the top of a gently rising slope, and there, stretched out below us, lay the shining expanse of the Danewell Estuary. For a couple of miles in either direction a winding belt of silver gleamed and sparkled in the bright morning sunshine. On the left it narrowed gradually towards the small tidal haven of Barham Lock, from which point one could just trace the placid course of the river Shell, meandering along idly through the marshes. On the right it opened out by degrees into an ever-broadening channel, until far away in the distance, where a faint haze brooded over everything, it merged itself imperceptibly into the grey waters of the North Sea.
I pointed to a small, irregularly shaped island which lay out in mid-stream, almost exactly ahead of us.
"That," I said, "is Greensea."
Shading his eyes with his hand, Ross gazed down at my new inheritance. One could not see very much of the house, for the straggling cluster of trees that surrounded it practically hid it from the mainland. All that was plainly visible was a neglected-looking landing-stage with a roughly built wooden boat-house alongside.
"Seems nice and private," he observed. "Just the place for a retiring nature like yours." He took another glance, and then turned to me with an air of disappointed enquiry. "I don't see the dog or the prize-fighter though. Why aren't they standing on the quay waiting for us? It is very disrespectful of them."
"Never mind," I said. "Perhaps they're getting lunch ready. That's a heap more important."
We ran down the short incline into the little hamlet of Pen Mill, and pulled up outside the old-fashioned Gunner's Arms. For a moment I sat where I was, and looked round me with contented eyes. It was nearly five years since my last visit, and to my huge satisfaction nothing seemed to have changed during the interval. There was the same village green, which had always reminded me of the cover ofJackanapes. The same geese, or what appeared to be the same geese, waddled happily about in the sunshine, the same clumsy boats were moored up alongside the old stone jetty, and the big bow-windows of the inn still leaned out crazily towards the water. I took in a long, deep breath, and stepped down from the car.
"I don't want to interfere in any way with the programme," remarked Ross, "but what about a drink?" He glanced up at the picturesque front of the Gunner's Arms. "I suppose they sell drink in this interesting ruin?"
"Any amount of it," I replied, brushing off the dust from my coat. "It's where my skipper—Bobby Dean—and I used to come when we were paddling around in the Harwich Patrol."
I led the way up the flight of wooden steps, and entered the low-ceilinged, panelled room, where I had spent many a cheerful half-hour in past days. Here I found the first traces of Time's handiwork. Instead of the apple-cheeked old landlady whom I remembered so well, an enormous, genial-looking man in his shirt-sleeves came forward to take our orders.
"Yes, sir," he said, in answer to my enquiry, "Mrs. Green's been dead and gone a matter o' two years come next July. Went off sudden like as you might say, and the house was put up to auction. I'd had my eye on it for some time, and I bought the whole place, lock, stock, and barrel."
He crossed to the bar, returning in a few moments with the whiskies and sodas that we had asked for.
"You've not been in these parts for some time, sir?" he hazarded.
"Not since the war," I replied; "but you will probably see something of me in future." I took a drink and set down the tumbler. "I am the new owner of Greensea Island," I added.
He looked at me with sudden curiosity. "Well I never! Is that so, sir? Why, only yesterday somebody was saying that a nephew of Mr. Jannaway's had come into the whole property."
"That's right," I said. "Mr. Jannaway was my uncle."
He received the information in silence, but I thought I could detect a faint change of expression in his face.
"Did you know him?" I asked, striking a match to light my pipe.
"No, sir, I can't say that I did. No one didn't know Mr. Jannaway, not in a manner o' speaking. I don't believe he ever come ashore, not the whole time he was on the island."
"Perhaps you have met his man—Bascomb?"
He nodded, but without any apparent enthusiasm. "He's been in here a few times, sir."
Another customer appeared in the doorway, and with a murmured word of apology he moved away to attend to his wants.
Ross sat back and surveyed me with a mischievous grin. "We don't seem to be in luck," he remarked. "Ask him if he's friendly with the dog."
My eyes travelled through the open window towards the low-lying shore and the straggling clump of trees opposite. A more peaceful scene it would have been difficult to imagine, but its outward calm did nothing to allay the ever-growing sense of danger which haunted me like a persistent shadow.
I turned back to Ross, however, with a well-assumed air of indifference.
"I expected to find that Uncle Richard had queered the pitch. I shall have to begin at the bottom and endear myself to the neighborhood gradually."
"Well, you've started the right way by bringing me along," he retorted. "It will at least show 'em that you have got some respectable friends."
I beckoned to the landlord, who was again disengaged.
"Is there a boat of any sort you could let us have?" I asked. "We want to go across to the island."
Whatever may have been the drift of his private thoughts, he was evidently prepared to be civil and obliging.
"Why, certainly, sir," he said. "There's one down alongside the jetty." He walked to the window and thrust his head out. "Jim," he shouted, "just get that boat ready. There's a couple o' gents comin' along in a minute."
I settled up for the drinks, and we made our way out of the room and down the rickety flight of steps.
We found Jim, a shock-headed youth of about eleven, unhitching the painter of a small weather-beaten dinghy.
"Will you want me, sir?" he enquired.
"Not to-day, James," I said. "We are only going over to the island. I think we can manage that between us."
He glanced at us both a little doubtfully. "You'll 'ave to row up stream a bit," he announced. "The tide runs very strong 'bout here."
I thanked him for this well-meant information, and, having given him sixpence, took my place at the sculls. With another grin Ross settled himself comfortably in the stern.
"Even the children mistrust us," he observed, as I tugged the boat out into the tideway.
It was not more than a couple of hundred yards across but so rapid was the current that it took us some little while to make the passage. I pulled well up until I was almost opposite the furthest point of the island, and then, getting into comparatively slack water, rowed down under the shelter of the shore. At last we came alongside the landing-stage, where Ross leaned over and grabbed hold of a rusty chain.
"There doesn't seem to be anyone about," he said. "I wonder if the blighter got your wire."
The words had hardly left his lips when there was a sudden rustle amongst the trees, and a huge black shape bounded out into the open. It was a dog, but the biggest dog I have ever seen—an enormous brute that looked like a cross between a great Dane and an old English mastiff.
For a second it stood there, swishing its tail and staring at us out of its bloodshot eyes, then in a menacing fashion it began to advance rapidly up the path.
With undignified haste Ross let go the chain and scrambled back into his seat. Freed from this check, the head of the boat promptly swung round, and the next moment we were drifting broadside on, with several feet of water between us and the shore.
"Don't be frightened," I said soothingly. "It's only his fun. He doesn't bite."
Before Ross could answer there was the sound of a step on the gravel, and the figure of a man came hurriedly round the bend leading from the house.
"Come 'ere," he shouted. "Come 'ere at once."
The dog pulled up as if he had been shot, and, casting a disappointed glance at us, stalked away solemnly from the bank. With a couple of strokes I managed to regain our former position.
"Good morning," I said. "Are you Bascomb?"
The newcomer, a dark, heavily built, clean-shaven man of about thirty-five, advanced quickly across the open space.
"That's me, sir," he replied. "You're Mr. Dryden, I suppose?"
I shipped my sculls and stepped up on to the landing-stage, followed by Ross.
"Yes," I said, "I'm Mr. Dryden. Did you get my wire?"
"It come along yesterday afternoon, sir. I got some lunch ready for you." He tied up the painter to an iron ring, and then glanced round at the dog, who was sitting on his haunches a few yards away, surveying us with sombre interest. "I'm sorry 'e run at you like that. 'Taint 'is fault exac'ly. He's bin trained not to allow no strangers on the island."
"He seems to have picked up the trick very nicely," I replied. "What's his name?"
"Satan, sir."
I turned to Ross. "No wonder he wanted to get hold of you," I said, laughing.
Ross stooped down and snapped his fingers. "Come on, Lucifer," he called out coaxingly. "We're all pals here."
The huge animal rose slowly to his feet, and in a very deliberate fashion strolled across to where we were standing.
"'E won't 'urt you now," observed Bascomb. "'E only wants to take stock of yer like."
As if to confirm his statement, Satan came up to each of us in turn, and sniffed enquiringly at the legs of our trousers. His inspection was evidently a success, for with a prodigious yawn he sat down between us, and stared out indifferently at the landscape.
"We've passed all right," said Ross, "but I don't think we've taken honours."
"Well, we shan't be chawed up, anyhow," I returned. "That's something to be grateful for."
"You won't 'ave no more trouble with 'im," put in Bascomb. "'E'll be as friendly as a kitten now 'e understands you belong 'ere." Then, as if anxious to change the conversation, he added quickly: "Will ye come inside straight away, sir, or would you like to take a walk round the island first?"
"Oh, we may as well see the house," I said. "There will be plenty of time for exploring after lunch."
Without any further remark my new retainer led the way up the path—a narrow walk hedged in on each side by an unkempt shrubbery of laurels. We passed through an iron gate, which brought us out into the open, and suddenly, with a little thrill of curiosity, I found myself face to face with my future home.
It was a low, rambling house of two storeys, built of red brick, and covered with a thick growth of creeper. On one side of the porch were two long windows, opening out on to a verandah. A strip of lawn with flower-beds in it ran the whole length of the front, and, except for the general air of neglect which seemed to pervade everything, it looked as charming and comfortable a place as the most exacting owner could desire.
Ross gave vent to a long whistle of approval.
"It's great!" he exclaimed admiringly. "A real dyed-in-the-wool happy little English country home! I can just picture you paddling around with the mowing machine, and sneaking out at night to murder the slugs."
Bascomb glanced at him queerly out of the corner of his eye, as if wondering whether he were quite sane; then, marching ahead of us across the grass, he pushed back the front door, which was already partly open.
We found ourselves in a large, rambling hall, fitted up as a sitting-room. One glance round showed me that it was a sort of place where I should feel absolutely at home. Like the parlour at the Gunner's Arms, it was panelled from floor to ceiling in black oak. There was a huge fireplace, with steel dogs on the hearth; a couple of big leather armchairs were ranged invitingly on each side of it; while tucked away in one corner stood a broad low couch, plentifully heaped with cushions. An old Jacobean desk, apparently locked, and a fine corner cupboard of the same period, practically completed the furniture.
Ross stood there gazing about him with the same approving smile.
"By Gad!" he remarked. "The old boy knew how to make himself comfortable."
I turned to Bascomb. "Did my uncle furnish this room himself?" I asked.
The latter shook his head. "No, sir. 'E bought these things along with the 'ouse. 'E 'ad that fireplace put in, otherwise it's just the same as when 'e come 'ere."
"I'm glad he had the good taste to leave it alone," I said. "It's more than I should have given him credit for."
Except for a rather sour glance, Bascomb made no reply. He crossed the hall to a door at the back, and, turning the handle, pushed it open.
"This is the dining-room," he announced curtly.
Ross and I walked over and followed him in. It was a pleasant apartment, with a diamond-paned bow-window looking out on to another strip of grass, where several chickens were strutting about in the sunshine. In the centre was a table laid for lunch.
"I've got a bit o' cold lamb ready when you'd like it," continued Bascomb, in the same surly tone. "But p'raps you'd rather see the rest of the 'ouse while yer about it?"
I nodded my assent, and, turning back into the hall, he conducted us up the staircase to the landing above. He stopped at one of the rooms, the door of which was already ajar.
"Mr. Jannaway used to sleep in 'ere," he said, "but there's two others if you don't fancy it."
I glanced round at the big four-poster bed and the solid, old-fashioned furniture, all of which I found distinctly pleasing. Then I moved over to the window and looked out. The room faced directly towards Pen Mill, and through a gap in the trees I could just see the rough stone jetty, and the picturesque front of the Gunner's Arms.
"This will suit me," I said. "It would take a very bad conscience to keep one awake here."
I made the remark quite carelessly, but from the expression on Bascomb's face he evidently took it to be another reflection upon his late lamented master. In dead silence, and with a scarcely concealed air of resentment, he led us through the remainder of the house; then, having brought us back to the dining-room, departed to fetch the lunch.
"Well, what do you think of it all?" I asked Ross as soon as were left alone.
He sat down on the broad cushioned seat in the window.
"It reminds me more of the hymn than anything else," he said, "'Where every prospect pleases, and only man is vile.' The place is top-hole, but of all surly brutes I've ever met, that prize-fighter of yours about takes the biscuit."
I pulled one of the chairs to the table. "He's not exactly a sunbeam," I admitted. "All the same, I think it was chiefly my fault. I ought to have been more careful what I said about Uncle Richard. From what Drayton told me this chap was devoted to him in his way, and I suppose I've managed to upset his feelings."
Ross grunted unsympathetically. "He'd go tracking jolly quick if it was my place," he observed. "I should get the blue hump if I were shut up alone in the house with a fellow like that."
Any further discussion was cut short by the sound of steps in the hall, and a moment later Bascomb himself came back into the room carrying a well-loaded tray. Without saying a word, he proceeded to set out its contents on the table, moving around with a quick noiseless tread rather surprising in a man of his size and weight. When he had finished he stood for a moment with the empty tray in his hand.
"There's a bell alongside the fireplace," he announced, "and there's some coffee comin' after. I'll be in the kitchen if you want me before then."
With this information he again took himself off, shutting the door behind him as he went out.
Ross drew up his chair opposite to mine. "It looks all right," he said, with a satisfied glance round the table. "I suppose he hasn't put poison in the salad!"
"I shall risk it, anyhow," I returned. "I'm too hungry to worry about trifles."
In spite of his suggestion, Ross seemed to share my feelings, for he certainly did full justice to the excellent meal in front of us. Besides the lamb there was cold gooseberry tart and cream, with a large slab of Cheddar cheese to fill up any remaining corners. For drink we had a bottle of good hock, a wine to which I have always had a peculiar and affectionate attachment.
By the time we had finished and rung for the coffee all Ross's usual amiability had returned.
"I like your island, my lad," he said, lighting himself a cigar. "I could even put up with the prize-fighter if he always turns out meals like this. When we come back in August you shall ask me to stay."
"Why not stay now?" I suggested.
He shook his head. "Can't be done," he said regretfully. "I have promised to take my sister to Bath. I take her there every year in May when I'm home, and I wouldn't have the heart to disappoint her. For some extraordinary reason she appears to enjoy it."
I was more than a little disappointed, for to tell the truth I had been counting a good deal on Ross's society during the next two weeks. Half the fun of settling into a new place is to have some pal to talk things over with, and he was just the sort of cheerful, easy-going chap who would have exactly filled the role.
Apart from that, Christine's warning about not being alone on the island still echoed clearly in my memory. I was not afraid, but after what had happened to me in the docks I could hardly doubt the soundness of her advice, and for a moment I could think of nobody else whom I could invite to share my solitude. It is true that Mr. Drayton's friend, Inspector Campbell, had expressed his willingness to come down for a week-end whenever I asked him, but until I had got a little firmer grip on the situation I was not particularly anxious for the presence of a detective.
As I have said before, however, I am not given to worrying over what cannot be helped, and I was on the point of making some suitable rejoinder when the door opened and Bascomb arrived with the coffee. As he set it down in front of me I took the opportunity to congratulate him upon the excellence of our lunch.
"We'll have a stroll round the island as soon as we've finished," I added. "You might come with us and show us anything there is to be seen."
"Very good, sir," he returned, in a slightly mollified voice. "I'll be outside—along by the front door."
True to his word, we found him standing on the path when we came out, with Satan in due attendance.
"If yer don't like the dog," he said, "I can tie 'im up in the yard."
"But I do like him very much," I replied. "We are going to be the best of friends, aren't we, Satan?"
I bent over and patted the huge black head, an attention which its owner accepted with a complacent grunt that was distinctly encouraging.
It seemed to me that a momentary flicker of relief passed across Bascomb's naturally wooden features, but without any further observation he led the way round to the back, where another rusty iron gate opened out on to the marshes.
From this point the whole expanse of Greensea Island was visible to our eyes. It consisted of a long stretch of saltings and swamps, only broken by occasional creeks and pools, which sparkled here and there in the bright May sunshine. To some people, I suppose, the outlook would have appeared dismal in the extreme, but for me this kind of scenery has always possessed an extraordinary charm. I love it even in the winter time, when it lies bare and desolate under a cold sky. Now, with the thrift mantling the marshes everywhere with a garment of shot satin, its strange and lonely beauty seemed to stir the very chords of my heart.
These delicate emotions were rudely interrupted by Ross, who had been watching my face with his usual amused smile.
"You look like the stage hero coming back to his long-lost village. If there was only a golden-haired damsel in white muslin picking roses, it would make a lovely fifth act for a melodrama."
"I can get along very nicely without her," I returned. "I've had quite enough melodrama to last me for the present."
I had spoken again without thinking, but once more my words appeared to have a curious effect upon Bascomb. Anyhow, I caught him staring at me suddenly, with a peculiar expression of doubt and suspicion. He turned away, however, directly he met my eyes, and, pushing open the gate, stepped back to allow us to pass.
We set out over the uneven ground, and, striking right across to the water's edge, started to make a complete circuit of the island. It was not easy walking, for the whole place was infested with puddles and patches of bog, and we were constantly making small detours or else jumping from tuft to tuft in order to avoid one or another of these obstacles.
Innumerable red-shanks and sea birds kept on popping up in front of us with shrill cries of alarm, while more than once a large heron rose slowly to his wings and flopped away with a kind of majestic indignation. I could see that in winter it must be a splendid shooting-ground, and I reflected with some satisfaction on the new gun which was one of the first things I had promised myself to buy.
We had covered about half the distance, and were skirting along the inner shore in the direction of the landing-stage, when Ross suddenly came to a standstill and pointed away up the estuary.
"Look there!" he said. "Somebody's coming to pay you a visit already."
About a couple of hundred yards distant a small petrol dinghy containing a single passenger was rapidly churning its way towards the island.
I turned to Bascomb. "Who is it?" I asked. "Anyone you know?"
Shading his eyes, he stared out at the approaching boat.
"Yes," he said. "It's Dr. Manning."
If he had said it was the devil his tone could scarcely have been more appropriate, and both Ross and I looked up in amazement at the renewed churlishness of his manner.
"Dr. Manning!" I repeated. "I thought he was in London."
Bascomb whistled to the dog, who trotted up obediently to his side.
"'E may 'ave bin there for all I know. 'E come back last night anyway. I seen 'im goin' across to the barge."
There was a short pause.
"Well, I suppose we'd better get along and meet him," I said dryly. "I know he wants to have a talk with me, and I can't very well say I'm not at home."
To this Bascomb returned no answer. He fell in behind Ross and me, with Satan at his heels, and in this order we advanced across the strip of salting which still separated us from the landing-stage.
We reached our destination at almost the same moment as the boat. Its owner brought it up alongside with a skill which showed him to be a practised hand, and, switching off his engine, leaned over and caught hold of the ring.
I don't know exactly what I had expected, but my first impression of him was a distinctly surprising one. He was a man who would have attracted attention anywhere, if only for his unusual good looks. Except on one of the early Greek coins, I don't think I have ever seen features so extraordinarily well cut. His face was burned to the colour of old mahogany, and against this dark background a pair of china blue eyes looked out with a curious and almost disconcerting brilliance. He was wearing flannels and the usual white yachting cap, and as far as age went he might have been anything between forty and forty-five.
"How do you do?" he said pleasantly. "I suppose I'm right in taking you for Mr. Dryden? I'm Dr. Manning."
"You're quite right," I answered, "and I'm very glad to see you. Won't you come ashore?"
He stepped up lightly out of the boat, and shook my hand with a grip that certainly lacked nothing in heartiness.
"I spotted you from my barge," he went on, "so I thought I would come over and introduce myself. I have been looking forward to meeting you for some little while."
"I was half-expecting to hear from you in London," I said. "Mr. Drayton told me that he had given you my address." I paused. "Let me introduce you to a brother professional," I added. "Dr. Ross, of theNeptune."
I saw his glance travel swiftly and keenly over my companion.
"Delighted to meet you," he said. "I was a ship's surgeon myself at one time." He turned back to me. "I should have run down to look you up at the docks, only I couldn't quite fit things in. Besides, I thought we were certain to come across each other here before long."
"Suppose we go up to the house and have a drink," I suggested.
"That's not a bad idea," he returned cheerfully. "I must just fasten up the boat first, though."
He bent down, and with a couple of quick turns hitched the painter to the ring. I was on the verge of speaking rather sharply to Bascomb, who, still standing sullenly in the background, had made no effort to come forward and assist him. For the moment, however, I thought it best to let the matter pass, and side by side we all three started up the path towards the front door.
"There's no need for ceremony," I said, as I led the way into the hall. "You probably know the house better than I do."
"Well, I was here for several days," he answered, "but most of the time I was up in your uncle's bedroom."
I mixed him a whisky and soda and passed it across.
"I know," I said, "and I haven't thanked you yet. It was uncommonly good of you to come over and look after him as you did."
"Oh, you mustn't say that," he protested. "I was very pleased to be of any use. I have given up practice for some years, but I am always ready to do anything I can in an emergency." He paused. "I only wish I had been more successful," he added. "It was one of those cases, though, in which medical skill is practically helpless. Heart failure, you know, on the top of double pneumonia."
I nodded "I never met my uncle," I said, "but I imagine that he had led a pretty hard life. I suppose that's bound to tell when it comes to the point."
His blue eyes rested curiously on mine. "You never actually met him?" he repeated. "I suppose you knew a good deal about him though?"
"Precious little," I said frankly. "He went off to South America when I was about five years old, and the next thing I heard of him was Mr. Drayton's cable telling me that he was dead."
"Why, it's quite a romance," he exclaimed in his easy, almost drawling manner. "You were evidently born under a lucky star. There are not many people who drop into a fortune from relations that they've never spoken to." His glance wandered round the room, as though noting its various features. "Not that it's everyone's property," he went on with a smile. "Jolly enough in the summer, of course, but it's a bleak and desolate place in the winter, I give you my word. I have often wondered what induced your uncle to shut himself up here."
"I suppose it appealed to him," I said. "There's no accounting for tastes."
Dr. Manning took a sip of his whisky and soda and set down the glass.
"I believe Mr. Drayton spoke to you about my proposal," he said. "I mean the idea some of us had of starting a yachting club here."
"He did mention it," I replied, "and I'm very sorry to disappoint you. The fact is that I haven't any wish to let the place. I mean to live here myself."
He took my refusal with the most perfect good humour.
"I'm delighted to hear it," he answered. "Of course, if you are particularly set on the island itself there's no more to be said. I thought, however, that you might prefer to be on the mainland. It's much more convenient and cheerful in some ways. There are one or two very jolly little places in the market that could be picked up for a mere song, and we should be prepared to give you a good rent for Greensea. You see, it's just exactly suited for what we want."
"It isn't a question of money," I said. "As far as that goes, the terms you offered through Mr. Drayton were exceedingly handsome. The point is that I am quite contented where I am. I have always wanted to have an island of my own, and now I have got one I mean to stick to it."
"Well, if that's the situation," he returned with a laugh, "we mustn't bother you about it any further." He finished his whisky and soda, and, putting his hand in his pocket, pulled out a small cigarette case.
"Won't you have a cigar?" I suggested.
He shook his head. "No, thanks. I never smoke anything but Egyptian cigarettes. A friend of mine sends them to me over from Cairo. Will you try one?"
He held out the case, and both Ross and I helped ourselves.
"I suppose you will be importing servants if you are going to settle down here?" he said. "Your uncle, you know, wouldn't have anyone else on the island except that one man of his."
"What do you think of Bascomb?" I asked.
He blew out a long wreath of smoke. "Well, it's hardly my place to criticise him," he answered, smiling, "but to be quite candid, I should get rid of him as soon as possible if I were in your shoes. I don't want to do the fellow an injustice, but from what I saw of him while I was here I mistrust him profoundly."
Ross glanced at me with rather a triumphant expression.
"I daresay you're right," I said. "He certainly doesn't err on the side of cheerfulness."
As a matter of fact, his warning, though doubtless a well-intended one, only increased my determination not to act hastily in the matter. There is a regrettable streak of obstinacy in my character which always gets up against other people's advice, and, in addition to that, I had an unaccountable feeling inside me that Bascomb was not really as black as he was painted. In spite of his surliness, he gave me the impression of being an honest fellow, and when it comes to judging character I am prepared to back my instincts against a good deal of circumstantial evidence.
Something, however, urged me to keep my ideas to myself, so, changing the conversation, I asked Manning if he could tell me anything about the prospects of wild fowling during the coming winter. I had evidently hit on the right source of information, for he at once began to discuss the subject in a fashion which showed me that he knew every creek and marsh throughout the length and breadth of the estuary.
"There's plenty of sport," he added, "any amount of it; only, if you don't mind my giving you a tip, you want to be a little careful how you go about it. The fact is that some of these fellows round here—the professional gunners, I mean—are as jealous as hell. They are a rough lot, and I wouldn't put much beyond them when they get really nasty."
I looked at him with some surprise. I had run across a certain number of these gentry when I had been messing around in the motor launch with Bobby Dean, and although they were a queer crowd in their way, I should never have suspected them of being dangerous.
"You don't mean to say they'd take a pot shot at one," I said, "or anything bloodthirsty of that sort?"
"It sounds rather a large order," he admitted. "All the same, when I first came here I had a couple of devilish narrow escapes. They may have been accidents, of course, but if so—" He shrugged his shoulders in a fashion that was sufficiently expressive.
"It doesn't seem to have interfered much with your shooting," put in Ross.
"Oh, I'm all right now," he replied easily. "I'm well in their good books because I have doctored up two or three of them when they were seedy, and I suppose they feel grateful to me in their way." He turned to me. "I thought I ought to mention it though, just to put you on your guard."
"Thanks very much," I said. "I'm not a nervous person, but I'll keep my eyes open in case anyone should mistake me for a duck."
As though suddenly thinking of the time, Dr. Manning glanced at the slim gold watch which he wore upon his wrist.
"I must be off," he announced. "I'm expecting some friends on the barge at half-past three." He rose to his feet and shook hands with both of us. "I shall see you again before very long, I suppose?" he added, addressing himself to me.
"I shall be down here for good in three or four days' time," I said.
"Well, don't forget to make use of me," he returned. "If you would like to be put up for the club at Shalston or anything of that sort you have only got to let me know."
I thanked him again, and we all walked down together to the landing-stage, where he got into his boat and started off on his return journey.
Ross and I stood for a minute watching the long wake of foam that he left behind him as he sped rapidly away into the distance.
"I am beginning well," I said. "It's something to have made friends with one's next-door neighbour."
Ross, who was still staring at the retreating dinghy, indulged in a rather doubtful grunt.
"I suppose he's all right," he said half reluctantly. "I can't say I cottoned to him much myself. He's too damned good-looking for my taste."
"There doesn't seem to be much love lost between him and Bascomb," I remarked. "I wonder what the trouble is."
"God knows," returned Ross, "but on that point at least my sympathies are with the doctor." He turned away from the water, and we strolled back side by side towards the house. "Do you think there's anything in this yarn of his about the natives? If so, it looks to me as if you were up against a pretty breezy proposition."
"I'm not worrying myself," I replied placidly. "Somebody wants to assassinate me already—that's quite plain—and a few extra hands on the job won't make much difference. After all, one can only die once."
"That's the spirit, my lad," observed Ross, slapping me on the shoulder. "All the same, I don't like to think of you stuck down here on your little lonesome. I've half a mind to chuck my sister and come and keep you company."
"No you won't," I said firmly. "You trot off to Bath like a good boy. If things get too hot I'll rout out somebody else to share the racket."
We reached the front door just as I spoke, and almost simultaneously Bascomb came into view round a corner of the shrubbery, with Satan still at his heels. I hesitated for a moment, wondering what was the best thing to do. Should I take him to task there and then, or would it be better to wait until I returned to the island and was properly settled into the house? I decided on the latter course, and, leaving Ross, walked forward to where he was standing.
"We shall be off in a few minutes, Bascomb," I said "I must leave the rest of the island until I come back."
He met my gaze quite steadily, though the same sullen expression still lingered in his eyes.
"Very well, sir," he said. "When shall I expect you?"
"I don't know for certain," I replied. "About Wednesday or Thursday, I expect, but I'll send a line and let you know." I paused. "Is there anything you want for the house—anything I can have sent down from London?"
He shook his head. "There's no trouble about gettin' food," he answered. "All the Shalston tradesmen deliver at Pen Mill, and, as far as liquor goes the cellar's just full up with it."
My opinion of Uncle Richard underwent a slight improvement.
"That's good news," I said. "How are you off for money?"
"I've got enough to go on with. Mr. Drayton gave me twenty pound last time 'e was down 'ere." He hesitated for a moment, and then added gruffly: "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but might I ask what arrangements you're thinkin' o' makin'?"
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, I was wonderin' if you wanted me. Mebbe you'll be bringin' your own folk along with you."
"You looked after my uncle while he was alive, didn't you?" I asked.
"Yes," he said bluntly, "I reckon 'e was satisfied, but it don't foller you won't 'ave different ideas."
"That depends on you," I said. "If you make me comfortable I shall be quite contented with the arrangement—at all events for the present."
He was evidently rather surprised, but the satisfaction in his face was unmistakable.
"I'll do my best," he said. "No one can't do more than that." He glanced down at Satan, who was sitting patiently by his side. "'Ow about the dog?" he demanded suspiciously. "You won't be wantin' to get rid of 'im?"
"Not likely," I said, with some feeling. "He's one of the chief attractions of the place from my point of view."
At this moment, as luck would have it, Satan rose leisurely to his feet, and, strolling across, thrust his wet muzzle into the palm of my hand. The timely demonstration evidently had a considerable effect upon Bascomb, for he looked up at me with a sudden respect that had hitherto been absent from his manner.
"'E's taken to you proper, sir," he observed; "an' wot's more, 'e's worth 'avin' as a friend, that dog is. If 'e was around, and any bloke was to try a dirty trick on you, 'e'd tear the throat out of 'im before 'e knew wot 'ad 'appened."
"I'm very pleased to hear it," I said heartily, and, having bestowed several more encouraging pats on my new and useful ally, I followed Ross into the house.
I found him in the dining-room in the act of helping himself to another whisky and soda.
"It's time we were making a start," I said, copying his example. "There are no lights on the car, and it will take us at least three hours to get back to town."
"I'm ready," he replied. "I didn't like to leave all this drink behind, though. It's putting temptation in Bascomb's way."
"You needn't have worried yourself," I explained. "There's a whole cellar full of it downstairs, and of course he's got the key."
Ross nodded his head in mock amazement. "Good Lord! And yet the silly fool hasn't even the sense to try and keep his job. I suppose you'll give him the sack now you've heard the doctor's opinion of him?"
"I daresay," I returned evasively. "I'm keeping him on for the present, though. It's no good throwing away dirty water until one's got clean."
We went down to the landing-stage and stepped into our boat, which Bascomb had busied himself in making ready for us. He and Satan remained standing on the shore as we pulled out into the estuary—two motionless black figures against the lonely background of trees and shrubs. To my imagination they seemed to me to strike a curiously grim and forbidding note, well in keeping with the reputation for unsociability that Greensea Island had evidently earned. In view of certain possible contingencies, however, this was distinctly a fault on the right side, and I looked back at them both with a certain growing sense of comfort and confidence. If my uncle's legacy was a trifle unhealthy, I was beginning to think that he had at least left me the means of dealing with it in a thoroughly practical fashion.
We had no difficulty this time in making the passage, for the tide was now at its lowest, and were able to row straight across to the jetty. We abandoned the boat to the charge of Jim, who was waiting for us, and going up to the Gunner's Arms, routed out our chauffeur from a comfortable seat in the bar parlour.
"You've got back all right then, sir," observed the landlord. "I hope you found the place come up to what you expected?"
"Quite, thank you," I said. "I think I shall be as happy and contented there as my uncle was."
He eyed me for a moment with the same air of peculiar interest, but beyond thanking me for the five shillings which I gave him he offered no further remarks.
Three minutes later we were spinning up the long incline, at the top of which we had paused in the morning to view my new property. At the very point where we had halted the road turned away to the left, winding off inland towards the railway junction at Torrington.
We were just rounding this corner when the unexpected blast of a horn caused our chauffeur to pull in hastily to the near side. As he did so a big car suddenly swept into view, coming from the opposite direction. How we avoided each other I don't know, for the fleeting glimpse which I had caught of the man alongside the driver put everything else for the moment completely out of my head.
Ross sprang up in his seat, and stared back in amazement over the top of the tonneau.
"Well I'm damned!" he exclaimed, turning to me. "If that wasn't our friend de Roda it must have been his twin brother!"
I helped myself to a glass of port, and, sitting back in my big arm-chair, looked contentedly round the dining-room. It was the third evening I had spent in my new quarters, and the refreshing air of novelty had not yet quite worn off.
So far things had been moving with admirable smoothness. I had come down on the Thursday following my first visit, and I had been happily surprised at the improvements which Bascomb had effected in the interval. He must have worked hard, for the house was as neat and clean as anyone could reasonably wish, and in addition to that he had cut the grass and tidied up the garden, both in the back and the front.
In his own queer way, too, he had seemed quite pleased at my arrival, a welcome seconded by Satan, who had evidently adopted me as a new and desirable feature of the establishment. I had put In a couple of pleasantly lazy days, rambling about the place, exploring it from top to bottom, and now on this Sunday evening I found myself sitting over the remains of supper with something of the same "monarch-of-all-I-survey" feeling which helped to brighten the solitude of Robinson Crusoe.
Like that undefeated castaway, however, I had other and more pressing considerations to occupy my immediate thoughts. Whatever way I might look at it, the fact remained that I had undoubtedly burned my boats. Here I was, stuck down alone on Greensea Island, in precisely the friendless and solitary position which Christine had counselled me to avoid. Against her advice I had thrust my head deliberately into the lion's mouth, and for any painful consequences that might follow I should have only myself to thank.
If any further proof were needed as to the soundness of her warning I had it supplied to me in a sufficiently dramatic shape by that momentary encounter with de Roda at the top of Pen Mill Hill. That it was de Roda we had so nearly run into I was in no manner of doubt. However much I might have mistrusted my own eyes, Ross's immediate recognition of him had settled the matter beyond question. I could see him now as he had whirled past us in a cloud of dust—a huddled mass of coat collar, with a sallow face and sombre eyes staring out fixedly into space. It was my impression that he had not even glanced at either of us, but the whole thing had happened so abruptly that on this point at least I might very easily have been mistaken.
Anyhow, it didn't seem to make a vast deal of difference. By no conceivable stretch of imagination could I account for his presence in this out-of-the-way part of the world, unless it had something to do with my own humble affairs. Those grim words out of the Bible, "Where the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together," seemed to hit off the situation with unfortunate accuracy. There was a strong suggestion of a sick bird of prey in de Roda's yellow face, and, though I had no intention of becoming a carcase if I could possibly avoid it, the parallel was too close to be anything but distinctly unpleasant.
The one point in my favour was the fact that, if trouble were coming, I was at least fully prepared for it. After the way they had bungled things in the docks my enemies would no doubt have the sense to guess that I must be on my guard, but of the extra and private warning that I had received from Christine they were, I felt sure, happily in ignorance. If only I had had the least inkling of what it was all about I don't think I should have worried in the slightest. It was this fighting in the dark that was so upsetting—this horrible ignorance as to where the next blow might come from, and why the devil de Roda himself or anyone else should be so anxious to accelerate my funeral.
For the hundredth time I turned over in my mind the few actual facts of which I was really certain, only to pull up baffled before the same blank wall of profitless conjecture. All the guessing in the world was no use until I had something more to go on, and the sooner I acquired that "something" the rosier would be my prospects of remaining on this planet.
I was just pouring myself out a second glass of port when an idea occurred to me. Why not summon Bascomb and have things out with him straight away? Up to now I had made no attempt to question him. We were bound to come to an understanding sooner or later, and from every point of view the present seemed to be as good a time as any other.
Acting promptly on my impulse, I walked across to the fireplace and rang the bell. A few moments elapsed; then the door opened and the taciturn face of my retainer appeared on the threshold.
"Are you busy, Bascomb?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"Well, come in then," I said. "There are one or two things I want to talk to you about."
Still keeping silent, he closed the door behind him and advanced to the centre of the room.
"Sit down and have a glass of port," I added. "I don't know where my uncle got it from, but it's a first-class wine."
He hesitated for a second; then in a slightly awkward fashion he took the chair opposite mine, and accepted the decanter which I pushed across.
"Thank you, sir," he said gruffly. "I reckon it ought to be all right—same as everything else in the cellar. Mr. Jannaway was very particular about 'is liquor."
"He seems to have been a good judge of most things," I said, holding my glass up to the light. "I never met him myself, as you probably know. He went abroad to America when I was quite young, and except for Mr. Drayton you're the only person who can tell me anything about him."
For a moment Bascomb stared at the table without speaking.
"I dunno wot Mr. Drayton may 'ave said," he began in a half-defiant voice, "but if anyone wants to run down the guv'nor, they won't do it while I'm around. I don't say 'e was a bloomin' saint; 'e weren't made that way, no more'n I am. All the same, 'e treated me proper, 'e did, and I ain't goin' back on 'im now 'e's dead and gorn."
There was a rough eloquence about the man's outburst which I felt would have convinced even Ross of his good faith.
"I'm glad to hear you speak like that," I said heartily. "I believe in sticking up through thick and thin for anybody who has been kind to me, especially when they can't defend themselves."
The gleam of passion died out of Bascomb's face almost as suddenly as it had appeared.
"I didn't mean nothin' against you, sir," he began with a kind of clumsy apology in his voice. "I reckon you'd deal fair with anyone till you 'ad reasons for the contrary. All I feels is that mebbe you've 'eard things about the guv'nor which makes yer think a sight worse of 'im than there's any call for."
"It isn't so much what I've heard," I said, looking him straight in the face. "It's the queer way my uncle behaved that seems to me to want some sort of explanation. Why did he suddenly shut himself up on this island and treat the place as if it were a kind of fortress? At least, that's the only description that fits in with what Dr. Manning and even you yourself have told me."
Bascomb met my glance without wavering.
"As far as that goes, sir," he said stolidly, "I dunno much more about it than wot you do. Wotever the guv'nor did 'e 'ad good reasons for, but 'e weren't the sort to talk about 'is own affairs, not even to me."
"Do you think he was afraid of somebody?" I asked. "That's what Mr. Drayton believes."
Bascomb hesitated for a moment. "Yes, sir," he said slowly, "I reckon that's about the size of it. 'E'd got it into 'is 'ead that there was some party after 'im, an' 'e bought this 'ere island so as 'e'd be out of their way."
"When did it start?" I demanded. "When did you first notice anything wrong?"
"Well, sir, it's my belief that 'e always 'ad some notion of that sort at the back of 'is mind. When I come to 'im in London, almost the first thing 'e says to me was that no strangers was to be allowed into the flat, not under no circumstances wotever. Still, 'e didn't seem to worry 'isself not to anything like the same extent. 'E used to go to the races an' the music 'alls, an' as often as not 'e'd stop out till two or three in the morning."
"But something must have happened," I persisted. "Can't you remember when he began to change?"
Bascomb nodded. "It was one mornin'," he said slowly, "gettin' on towards the end of October. I 'eard 'is bell ring after breakfast, and when I goes in, there 'e was sittin' at the table, lookin' as if 'e'd bin took ill. 'E'd bin reading the paper, I could see that, an' I remember thinkin' as mebbe 'e'd found something in it as 'ad upset 'im. 'Bascomb,' 'e says to me, 'd'you know any place where you can get me a dawg?' 'Wot sort of a dawg, sir?' I asks, an' 'e laughs in that queer way 'e 'ad which was enough to give a bloke the creeps. 'A savage dawg, Bascomb,' 'e says, 'a big savage dawg as'll look after you an' me, an' tear the guts outer any silly devil who tries to shove 'isself in where 'e ain't wanted.' 'E always spoke as if 'e was 'alf jokin', the guv'nor did, but this time I could see as 'e meant business. So I tells 'im I knows a cove in Whitechapel who could probably let 'im 'ave wot 'e wanted, an' that very afternoon I goes down there and gets 'old of Satan." He paused and glanced at me with a sudden trace of apprehension. "Not as there's anything wrong with Satan, sir," he hastened to add. "'E's as gentle as a lamb with people 'e knows, but, as the bloke who sold 'im to me says, 'e ain't got no fancy for strangers, an' you see, sir, that's just the sorter dawg Mr. Jannaway was askin' for."
"And it's just the sort of dog I'm very glad he found," I remarked thankfully.
Bascomb paused to finish his port and then carefully wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"After that," he continued, "the guv'nor was wot you might call a different man. 'E didn't go out no more, 'cept in the middle of the day, and although 'e says nothin' to me, I could see as 'e was busy fixin' up some plan of 'is own. It didn't take long before it come out neither. 'Bascomb,' 'e says to me one mornin', 'I think we've 'ad enough o' London. It ain't good for the 'ealth livin' too much in a town, so I've took a nice little island where we can be quiet and comfortable—just the three of us. We shan't want no furniture,' 'e says, 'but pack up everything else in the flat, and we'll go down there to-morrow.'"
"Rather a short notice, wasn't it?" I suggested gravely.
"It didn't make no difference to me," returned Bascomb. "Where the guv'nor went I went, and as it so 'appens I've always 'ad a fancy for the country, ever since me first visit to 'Ampstead 'Eath."
"And you took over this place just as it stands?" I said.
"More or less, sir. The furniture was 'ere right enough, but there was one or two things the guv'nor wanted to 'ave done, such as puttin' on extra bolts and locks, an' shovin' in that there fireplace in the 'all."
"You had the workmen staying in the house, didn't you?" I asked.
"Yes, sir. A queer lot they was too. Dutchmen, every mother's son of 'em. Couldn't speak a word o' English, or any other Christian language."
I stared at him in frank astonishment. "Dutchmen!" I repeated. "What on earth made him engage Dutchmen?"
"Gawd knows," observed Bascomb indifferently, "but Dutch blokes they was, and that's a fact. Come over from Rotterdam, and brought all their clobber with them."
"How long did they stay?" I asked curiously.
Bascomb scratched his head. "Mebbe a matter o' four or five days. I didn't take no particular notice of 'em myself, 'avin' plenty to do gettin' things straight in the kitchen. The guv'nor kep' an eye on 'em, though, and I reckon 'e seed they done their job proper."
"They must have got through a good bit if they were here for five days," I said.
"I dunno about that," returned my companion rather contemptuously. "Them furrin' blokes ain't much use at work, even when there's someone lookin' after them. They was messin' about with the fireplace pretty nigh all the time."
"Why did he want a new grate?" I enquired. "Was there anything the matter with the old one?"
"It weren't big enough," explained Bascomb. "You see, sir, 'avin' spent most of 'is time in 'ot places, the guv'nor felt the cold somethin' crool. Always blindin' at the weather, 'e was. I've 'eard 'im say it was made up outer the scraps and leavin's wot other countries 'adn't got no use for."
"Then I suppose he lived chiefly in the hall?" I remarked.
"That's right, sir. 'E never went outside the 'ouse, not after it was dark. I used to make 'im up a big fire, an' there 'e'd sit all the evenin', with Satan lyin' on the floor alongside of 'im."
"It sounds a cheerful sort of existence," I said. "How did he amuse himself? Had he got any books or papers?"
"I don't think 'e laid much store by readin'," replied Bascomb. "We 'ad theDaily Mailcome over every mornin', but as often as not 'e wouldn't trouble 'isself to open it." He hesitated for a moment, and then seemed to decide to take me into his confidence. "You see, sir, the guv'nor 'e began shift in' a good deal o' liquor after we come down 'ere. 'E was never drunk, not wot you might call proper drunk, but most evenin's 'e'd be a bit muzzy like, an' 'e'd just sit there mutterin' to 'isself or talkin' to Satan. I reckon 'e'd fixed it up in 'is mind that someone was tryin' to do 'im in, an' when a party gets 'old of a notion like that, drink's about the only thing as'll cheer 'em up."
"And what happened?" I asked. "Did anyone put a bullet through the window or anything exciting of that sort?"
Once more Bascomb shook his head. "They didn't 'ave the chance," he observed grimly. "Before I goes to bed I always use ter slip Satan out through the back door, and I'd like to see the bloke as'd set foot on the island with 'im prowlin' around in the dark."
There was a short pause.
"Tell me about my uncle's illness," I said. "How was it he went off so quickly?"
"It was through gettin' wet, sir. 'E was out with 'is gun one mornin', an' it come on to rain sudden. Before 'e could get back to the 'ouse 'e was fair soaked to the skin. 'This cursed place 'as done for me at last, Bascomb,' 'e says. 'I shouldn't wonder if I was a corpse inside of a week.' With that, sir, 'e goes straight off to 'is bed, and when it come to five o'clock 'e was tremblin' all over an' beginning to talk wild. I reckoned 'e was pretty bad, an' 'avin' 'eard as this cove Manning was a doctor, I rows across to the barge and asks 'im to come over. I didn't like 'im, not from the moment I put me eyes on 'im, but, seein' there weren't no one else 'andy, I 'ad to make the best of it. By the time we gets back the guv'nor was worse. 'E 'adn't no notion who I was, an' 'e was throwin' 'isself about an' talkin' all sorts of foolishness. 'You'd better find me somethin' to sleep on,' says the doctor. 'If I don't stay and look after 'im 'e'll peg out in the night as likely as not.' Well, I makes 'im up a bed in the guv'nor's room, an' nex' mornin' I goes over to Pen Mill an' telegraphs to Mr. Drayton. After that the 'ole thing was out of my 'ands, so to speak. I done everything they tells me, but as you knows, sir, the guv'nor never got no better, an' two days later 'e goes off sudden early in the mornin'." He paused. "I wish 'e'd come to again, if it 'ad only been for a minute," he added huskily. "'E'd been good to me, the guv'nor 'ad, and I'd like to 'ave said good-bye to 'im."
I could not help feeling that it was probably a better epitaph than my uncle really deserved, but, all the same, there was something curiously affecting in the rough fellow's evident distress.
"What was the matter with the doctor?" I asked, after a moment's pause. "How was it you couldn't get on with him?"
Bascomb's face hardened again immediately. "I don't trust 'im, sir. It's my belief 'e's a wrong 'un."
Allowing for a slight difference in expression, they were the very identical sentiments that Manning had confided to me about the speaker, and it was all I could do to stop myself from smiling.
"Why do you think that?" I persisted.
"Well, if 'e was straight an' above-board wot made 'im carry on like 'e did? Always askin' questions and shovin' 'is nose into everything, same as if it was 'is own 'ouse." He stopped to take a long, indignant breath. "Some game of 'is own on, that's wot 'e 'ad, or else 'e wouldn't 'ave bin so blarsted curious."
"What sort of questions did he ask?" I enquired.
"Hall sorts," replied Bascomb resentfully. "Tryin' to jump me about the guv'nor mornin', noon, and night, an' as for the way 'e used to mess about, it was fair sickening. Why, after the funeral, blessed if 'e didn't come back 'ere twice an' want to look over the 'ouse again."
"Did you let him?" I asked.
"Not me! I says to 'im I'd strict orders from Mr. Drayton that no one was to come inside the place. 'E offered me a couple o' quid the second time, but I told 'im wot 'e could do with it, and after that I reckon we understood each other. Any'ow, 'e didn't show up no more, not till 'e seed you an' the other gen'leman."
"There's a fairly simple explanation of all this," I said. "He wants to get hold of the island and turn it into a yachting club. He had made an offer to Mr. Drayton before I arrived."
Bascomb looked a little sceptical. "I ain't 'eard nothin' about that," he observed. "Anyway, 'e's a wrong 'un, sir; you can take my word for it."
"I daresay you're right," I said, lighting myself a cigar. "It doesn't make much difference, because I haven't the faintest intention of letting the place and I've told him so straight out. If that's all he's after we shan't be troubled with much more of his company." I got up from the table. "I think I'll have a stroll round before I turn in," I added. "You needn't bother about the front door; I'll lock that myself when I come back."
I walked through into the hall, where I found Satan stretched out luxuriously on the mat in front of the fireplace. He cocked an eye at me as I passed, and, seeing me pick up my cap from the table, rose slowly to his feet.
"Come along then," I said. "We'll take the air together if you feel that way."
The suggestion evidently appealed to him, for he followed me out through the porch, and side by side we sauntered down the gravel path which led to the landing-stage.
It was a beautiful night, with a half moon low down in the sky, and one or two large stars shining away in isolated splendour. As I came out from the shadow of the trees the loveliness of my surroundings filled me with a kind of enchantment, and, drawing in a deep breath, I stood for a moment in absolute stillness. Everything was silent, except for the faint whisper of the reeds. A dancing pathway of silver stretched away up the centre of the estuary, and beyond it, on either side, lay the black, irregular outline of the shore.
Crossing the open with Satan at my heels, I slowly made my way down to the edge of the water. My mind was full of my conversation with Bascomb, and, coming to a halt in the warm darkness, I stood there puffing meditatively at my cigar.
Everything I had just heard had merely gone to confirm my previous ideas. There could be no doubt that, whether he had been right or wrong, my uncle had been firmly convinced that his life was in imminent danger, and in this opinion Bascomb himself seemed strongly inclined to share. I attached considerable importance to the latter point, because so far my worthy retainer had not given me the impression of being gifted with any particular powers of imagination. The only matter on which he appeared to have a slight obsession was with reference to Dr. Manning.
His mistrust for that gentleman was indeed so pronounced that I could not help wondering whether, after all, it might not be based upon a sound instinct. Unless he had exaggerated, the doctor's curiosity did appear to have been a trifle excessive, even allowing for his anxiety to get a lease of the island. I had only seen the man once, but there was something about him that I had not altogether cottoned to myself, in spite of his attractive manner and his undeniable kindness in looking after my uncle. I think it was a certain hardness in those china blue eyes of his, or perhaps it was the apparently deliberate fashion in which he had tried to set me against Bascomb. Of course it was wildly improbable that he could have anything to do with de Roda, but, all the same, I began to feel that it would be just as well to keep him on the list of suspected persons. I was in one of those regrettable situations where one cannot afford to give full play to the naturally generous impulses of one's nature!
My thoughts went back to the strange figure of my uncle as I saw him in the light of Bascomb's new disclosures. Viewed from that friendly angle, he seemed a more human sort of character than I had previously imagined; indeed, whatever he had done or been, there was something about those last days of his that stirred a belated sympathy for him in my heart. I pictured him sitting through the long winter evenings in that lonely room, with the half-empty whisky bottle beside him, and who knows what grim memories gnawing at his conscience. I could almost see him turning uneasily in his chair as the rain and wind swept up the estuary, beating on the French windows and whispering of the implacable vengeance that was lurking somewhere in the darkness outside.
It is possible that my compassion for him may have been stimulated by the fact that I seemed to be in a more or less similar predicament myself. My prospects of a long and peaceful life appeared to be quite as hazy as his own, while I laboured under the additional handicap of being entirely ignorant as to the reason for my unpopularity. I only knew that the same danger which had haunted him was now closing in on me, and that at any moment it might make itself manifest in a peculiarly abrupt and unpleasant form.
With a feeling of irritation at my own helplessness I stood staring out over the moonlit water. Except for a solitary lamp on the jetty opposite, all the long stretch of coastline on either side was wrapped in complete darkness. It looked a very suitable background for anyone with homicidal tendencies, and I was just wondering which point of the compass seemed the most promising when something attracted my attention.
Away to the left, in the direction of Barham Lock, a tiny point of light had broken out into the night. I gazed at it curiously, wondering what it could be. There was no house or cottage on that part of the coast, and in view of the shallowness of the water it was a very unlikely spot at which any vessel would have come to anchor.
For several moments I puzzled vainly over the problem; and then quite suddenly the explanation came to me.
It was the riding lamp from Dr. Manning's barge, which was moored up there in the blackness under the shadow of the trees.