I found myself in a broad passage, panelled on each side, and ending
in a solid-looking stone staircase which led up to the floor above.
There was a partly open door on my right, and through the aperture I
could see the head of an elderly gentleman peering forward over a
desk. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps.
"Good morning," I said. "My name's John Dryden, and I want to see
either Mr. Wilmot or Mr. Drayton."
He got up in a leisurely fashion and came round from his seat.
"If you will take a chair," he observed, "I will see whether Mr.
Drayton is disengaged. Mr. Wilmot has been defunct for the past
seven years."
I was about to offer my condolences, but, without waiting to hear
what I had to say, he shuffled past me, and in a crab-like fashion
began to ascend the staircase. I filled in the interval by strolling
across to the fireplace and looking at the books which decorated the
mantelpiece. They were a jolly lot, beginning with Webster's
Dictionary, and working up through a rising grade of frivolity to
Whitaker's Almanack, which last was carefully encased in a brown
paper cover, as though to disguise its rather unseemly tendencies. I
was just wondering which of them was the old gentleman's favourite
reading when the sound of his returning steps became audible outside.
A moment later he reappeared on the threshold.
"If you will accompany me," he observed, "Mr. Drayton will see you."
Placing my umbrella in the stand, I followed him up to the next
landing, where he pushed open a door in front of us, and then stood
back to allow me to enter.
It was a large, lofty room, lighted by three long windows facing into
Bedford Row. Apart from several rather dilapidated easy chairs and a
number of black tin boxes, its only furniture appeared to be an
enormous table, plentifully strewn with papers and one or two musty
packets of deeds.
Mr. Drayton, who was sitting at this table, rose on my entrance and
stepped forward to meet me. He was a well-dressed man of about
forty-five, with a strong, humorous face and a pair of very honest
blue eyes. I took a fancy to him at once.
"How d'you do, Mr. Dryden?" he said, offering me his hand. "You
received my cable all right then?"
"I did," I replied, exchanging grips with him, "and I've come along
as soon as I could manage it. We only got in at eight o'clock this
morning."
He pulled forward an easy chair. "Sit down," he said; "sit down and
make yourself comfortable. By the way, have a cigar?" He came back
to the table, and, picking up a box of excellent-looking Larenagas,
held them out for my inspection.
"Well, I've only just this moment finished one," I said, "but still,
that's no reason why I shouldn't have another."
"Certainly not," he remarked cheerfully. "Anybody who can smoke two
cigars running ought to take full advantage of the gift."
He lighted one for himself, and then, pulling up a second chair, sat
down opposite me.
"I am sorry we were not able to communicate with you sooner," he
began, in a rather more serious tone, "but as a matter of fact we had
some difficulty in finding out your address. Your uncle seems to
have known nothing about you beyond the bare fact of your existence."
"I am not surprised," I said. "I was in much the same blissful
position with regard to him."
The lawyer nodded. "Yes," he observed drily, "I gathered that. To
be quite candid with you, Mr. Dryden, your uncle had no particular
wish that you should benefit by his death. He omitted to make a will
because he was utterly indifferent about the disposal of his
property. He told me, to use his exact words, that he didn't 'care a
curse what happened to it after he was dead.'"
"He seems to have been a genial sort of chap," I said. "How did you
run across him?"
Mr. Drayton tilted his chair in the direction of the table, and
picked up a bundle of miscellaneous papers fastened together by a
clip.
"He came to us originally in rather a peculiar fashion. About two
years ago we had been acting in a police court case on behalf of a
man called Bascomb--a professional boxer. Bascomb had had a fight in
the street with another fellow, whom he accused of cheating him, and,
according to the doctor's evidence, he'd come within an inch or two
of murder. Luckily for him there had been nothing against him
before, and, as the other fellow was known to be a bad lot, we
managed to get him off with a month's hard labour.
"The next day Mr. Jannaway called here at the office. He had seen an
account of the case in one of the papers, and he wanted us to give
him Bascomb's address. He told me quite frankly that as soon as the
month was up he was ready to engage the man as a servant."
"He must have had a sporting taste in domestics," I observed with
interest.
"Well, perhaps it wasn't quite so extraordinary as it sounds,"
continued Mr. Drayton, with a laugh. "Bascomb had been in the
Marines before taking up with the ring, and he'd had some experience
in that class of job. Indeed, one naval officer he had worked for
came and gave evidence for him at the court."
"How did it turn out?" I asked curiously.
"As far as I know it was a complete success. Bascomb seemed very
grateful for the unexpected chance, and as he has been in your
uncle's employment ever since, I suppose he must have proved quite
satisfactory. Anyhow, Mr. Jannaway appeared to be perfectly
contented with him." He paused and turned over two or three of the
papers which he was holding in his hand. "All this is a little
beside the point, however. Our real dealings with Mr. Jannaway, so
far as you are concerned, began last November. On the third of that
month he came to see me again, and asked me if I would act for him in
a matter of business. There was an island being advertised for sale
off the Essex coast. It was a place called Greensea--a small
property of about six and a half acres in the mouth of the Danewell
River."
"Greensea!" I echoed. "Why, I know it quite well! I was in the
Harwich Patrol the last part of the war, and we were always running
in and out of the estuary."
"That's very interesting," said Mr. Drayton, "and, what's more, it
saves me a good deal of trouble. If you are already acquainted with
your new estate, there's no need for me to try and describe it for
you."
I sat up pretty sharply in my chair. "Do you mean to say that
Greensea Island belongs to me?" I exclaimed.
"It certainly does," he answered smilingly, "unless someone else
turns up with a better claim to it. Your uncle bought the place
through us on November the tenth, and, like all the rest of his
effects, it goes to his next of kin."
For a moment I sat there, hardly able to believe my ears. If I had
been asked to name any legacy more entirely to my taste I think I
should have had some difficulty in doing so. All my life, ever since
I was quite a small boy, I have had a curious longing to be the owner
of an island. I think it was reading one of Anthony Hope's books
which originally implanted this desire in my soul, but anyhow, it has
always been a secretly cherished dream of mine which I hoped some day
to be able to put into practice. To find a life-long wish like this
suddenly and unexpectedly gratified was such a startling experience
that it was only natural I should be momentarily "knocked out."
"What special attraction your uncle saw in the place," continued Mr.
Drayton, "I haven't the remotest notion. There is nothing on the
island except the house, and even at low water it's cut off
completely from the shore. Personally, I can't imagine a more
unpleasant spot to settle down in! Still, there it was; he had
evidently made up his mind to buy it, and, as he raised no objection
about the cost, we hadn't much difficulty in fixing things up for
him. We gave two thousand three hundred and sixty pounds for it, and
a very good price too--from the previous owner's point of view."
I reached out for the matches and re-lit my cigar, which in the
absorption of the moment I had allowed to go out.
"And what did he do with it when he'd got it?" I demanded. "Go and
live there?"
Mr. Drayton nodded. "He went straight down the day after the
agreement was signed. There were a few improvements and alterations
which he wanted done, but they were all carried out after he was in
the house. As far as I know he never left the place again."
I felt my interest in this remarkable uncle of mine increasing with
each fresh discovery about him.
"Was he all alone?" I asked. "Hadn't he got anyone living with him?"
"Only Bascomb and a dog," replied Mr. Drayton, "a great savage brute
as big as a small donkey. It used to run about loose most of the
time, and from what I saw of it I should imagine that nobody would
have dared to set foot on the island even if he had been invited.
Not that it made much difference, because, as a matter of fact, your
uncle never invited anyone. He shut himself up entirely, and, except
for Bascomb and the local doctor who attended him in his last
illness, I don't believe he ever saw or spoke to another living soul."
"What was the matter with him?" I enquired. "Was he off his chump?"
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "More or less, I should think.
At least, it's difficult to account for his conduct any other way.
Up till then he had been living the life of an ordinary middle-aged
man about town. One doesn't throw up all that sort of thing suddenly
and go and bury oneself in a God-forsaken place like Greensea unless
one's got a screw loose somewhere." He paused. "Besides," he added,
"there's no doubt that his mind gave way during his last illness. He
was quite incapable of recognising me when I went down to see him,
and, according to Dr. Manning, he remained in exactly the same state
until he died."
"When was that?" I enquired. "You didn't tell me in your cable."
Once again Mr. Drayton referred to his papers.
"He was taken ill suddenly on March the twenty-third. I think he got
a chill, or something of the sort; anyhow, Bascomb wired to me the
next day that he was very seedy, and I ran down there in the
afternoon. I found him delirious, and altogether about as bad as
anyone could possibly be. Bascomb had got hold of a doctor--a fellow
called Manning, who spends most of his time on a barge in the river,
which he has fitted up as a kind of shooting-box. He doesn't
practise as a rule, but when he saw how urgent the matter was he had
very kindly come over and taken up his quarters in the house. He
seemed to be doing everything that was possible, and as he declared
that he was quite ready to stay there as long as he was wanted I
decided to leave the case in his hands.
"I heard nothing more for two days; then, on the afternoon of the
twenty-eighth, I got a telegram to say that your uncle had died
rather unexpectedly in the morning. I sent back a wire to say I
would come down at once. In a strictly legal sense I had no real
authority to act, but, since there appeared to be nobody else, I
thought I had better take the responsibility.
"Dr. Manning was still in the house when I arrived, which of course
simplified matters to a very great extent. He had been in charge of
the case since the beginning, so there was no need for an inquest or
anything of that sort. He was able to certify that the cause of
death was heart failure on the top of double pneumonia, and between
us we fixed up all the necessary arrangements for the funeral.
"The next thing I did was to go through your uncle's papers. I knew
very little about him, and I hoped that I might come across something
which would put me in touch with his family. He had never given me
the faintest hint about his private affairs--except for once
mentioning that he had a nephew called John Dryden, whom he believed
to be his next of kin.
"Well, to cut a long story short, I was very little wiser at the end
of my search than I was at the beginning. I found practically
nothing, except a few receipted bills and one or two business letters
which dealt entirely with money matters. If he had any private
papers he had evidently put them away somewhere or other in safe
custody before leaving London.
"Under the circumstances I acted as best I could. I stayed there
until the funeral was over, and then I locked up everything and left
Bascomb in charge, with instructions that he wasn't to allow anyone
in the house without a written permission from me. He's a queer,
sullen sort of fellow, but he seemed to have plenty of sense in his
way, and, as far as I could make out, to be thoroughly loyal and
trustworthy.
"When I got back to London my first step was to go and see your
uncle's bankers. I explained the position to them, and I found them
quite ready to give me all the assistance in their power. This
didn't amount to much, however. They had no private documents or
anything of that sort; in fact, all they could really do was to let
me have a complete statement of the actual cash and securities in
their possession.
"I saw then that the only practical course was to get into
communication with you as soon as possible. It was a bit of a
proposition, considering that I knew nothing whatever about you
except your name, but luckily I was able to secure the services of a
retired Scotland Yard Inspector called Martin Campbell, who is quite
the smartest man in London at that sort of thing. (He is coming here
this morning, by the way, so you will probably meet him.) Well, he
set to work, and in something less than three weeks he had managed to
run you to earth--or perhaps I should say to sea! Anyhow, he found
out that you were second officer on the _Neptune_, and as the Planet
people told us that your ship was expected in Oporto on the third of
May, I decided to wait and cable you there.
"Meanwhile I went ahead with the business of establishing your claim
to the estate. It was plain enough sailing now I had once got on to
your track, and by the time you reached Oporto all the preliminary
steps were more or less completed. Of course, there are still a
number of legal formalities to be gone through. You won't be able to
touch the money in the bank for some little while, but that is a
difficulty we can probably come to some arrangement over. If you are
short of cash I have no objection to making you a personal advance.
As far as the actual title to the property is concerned, you can take
it from me that your position is a perfectly sound one."
He tossed the bundle of papers he had been holding on to the table,
and leaned back in his chair with an air of reassuring friendliness.
"It seems to me," I said gratefully, "that I'm pretty deeply in your
debt already. I don't know why you should have taken all this
trouble on my account, but I'm sure I'm devilish obliged to you."
"There's nothing to thank me for," he returned whimsically. "You can
put it down to professional enterprise. Mr. Jannaway was a client of
mine, and it seemed to me I might as well make sure of you before
anyone else butted in! We're an unscrupulous lot in Bedford Row as
far as business is concerned."
"It's lucky for me you are," I retorted, "otherwise I might have gone
on chasing about the world without any idea that I had suddenly
become a bloated capitalist." I paused. "By the way," I added
curiously, "how much money is there in the bank?"
Once again his eyes twinkled. "I was waiting for that question," he
said. "It's a great tribute to your self-control that you haven't
asked it before."
"To be quite honest," I confessed, "it's only just come into my head.
I was so interested in what you were telling me about my uncle that I
haven't been able to think of anything else."
He got up from his chair, and, retrieving his discarded papers, took
a seat on the corner of the table.
"Well, as a matter of fact," he began, "the position is rather odd.
If the estate only consists of what the bank holds, it amounts,
roughly speaking, to about ten thousand pounds. That, of course, is
not counting in the value of Greensea Island."
There was a pause.
"What do you mean 'if'?" I asked. "Is there a chance of some more
turning up?"
"There doesn't seem to be," he admitted; "all the same, it's very
difficult to fit in the present sum with the way in which your uncle
was living. Ever since he opened the account he has kept about the
same balance, while on the lowest estimate he must have been spending
at least two thousand a year."
"But surely the bank must have some idea where he got it from!" I
objected.
"That's just what they haven't. In the whole of that
period--practically four years--there were only three credit entries.
One is for twelve thousand, one for three thousand, and the other for
four thousand eight hundred. On each occasion these sums were paid
in over the counter--in cash!"
"In cash!" I repeated half incredulously. "Why he must have been
blackmailing Rothschild!"
My companion threw back his head and laughed boisterously. "Well, if
that's the case," he replied, "it's a pity he hasn't left you the
family secret. It's worth learning evidently."
I knocked off the ash of my cigar and sat back comfortably in my
chair.
"Oh, I don't know," I remarked. "I'm not greedy. Five hundred a
year will do very nicely for my simple needs."
"It will come to more than that," said Mr. Drayton. "There is one
rather satisfactory piece of news I have been keeping in reserve."
He paused. "I have been lucky enough to get you a tenant for
Greensea Island. He is willing to pay a rent of two hundred and
fifty, and take it over just as it stands."
He brought out this offer with an air of satisfaction which showed me
plainly enough that he expected me to jump at it. For a moment I
refrained from disillusioning him.
"Who is it?" I enquired with some curiosity.
"Well, as it happens, it's the very man we have been talking
about--Dr. Manning. He wants to start a new yachting club, and he
thinks the island would make an ideal headquarters. He seems to be
as keen as mustard on the idea, but of course I couldn't give him any
definite answer until I had seen you. I told him that you would very
probably be here this morning, and he is going to ring me up at
half-past two and find out if you will accept his proposal. I must
say I don't think you are likely to get a better one."
"I don't want a better one," I said. "If Greensea Island really
belongs to me, I haven't the smallest intention of letting it. I
mean to go and live there myself."
There was a brief silence.
"Are you serious?" demanded Mr. Drayton.
"Rather," I replied cheerfully. "I've always wanted to have a
private island of my own, and now I've got one you don't suppose I'm
going to hand it over to anyone else?"
Something in my manner evidently convinced him that I was in earnest.
"Well, _chacun à son goüt?_" he observed, with a humorous shrug of
his shoulders. "I can't see the attraction myself, but I suppose a
taste for that sort of thing runs in the family."
"Oh, I've no intention of becoming a hermit like my uncle," I
explained. "There must be plenty of decent fellows in the
neighbourhood, and I've no doubt that I shall get all the society I
want. It's the shooting and sailing and fishing that will be the
chief attraction to me."
"What about your engagement with the Planet people?" he asked.
"I am under a contract of sorts with them," I said, "but they'll
probably let me off if I ask them nicely. There's no shortage of
second officers in the world."
"In that case," he remarked, "you can please yourself. The property
will be yours in a few weeks, and if you want to go down there
straight away no one's likely to raise any objection." He paused.
"At least, no one except Dr. Manning," he added. "I am afraid he'll
be rather disappointed. He seems to have set his heart on the idea."
"I am sorry to spoil his plans," I said, "but, after all, I suppose
he can start his club somewhere else. Anyhow, it's no use his
thinking about Greensea; you might make that quite plain to him when
he rings up."
Mr. Drayton nodded. "I will," he said, "and another thing I had
better do is to drop a line to Bascomb. I presume you will be going
down there to have a look at the place as soon as possible, and it
would be just as well to let him know that you're the new owner. By
the way, do you intend to take Bascomb over with the other fixtures?"
"I am quite ready to," I replied, "if he likes to come, and I can
afford to pay his wages. I shall want someone to look after me, and
he sounds the right sort of chap."
Mr. Drayton tossed the stump of his cigar into the fireplace.
"How are you actually situated with regard to money?" he enquired.
"I have got seventy or eighty pounds of my own," I said "It's not
exactly a fortune, but it ought to be enough to carry on with for the
present."
He relinquished his place on the edge of the table and sat down again
in the chair which he had been occupying when I first entered the
room.
"Well, it's just as you like," he remarked, "but if you are really
serious about this idea of yours, I think you had better let me make
you a small advance. You needn't have any scruples, you know,
because I shall charge you interest on it. There are bound to be a
certain number of things you will want to buy, and there's no
particular point in running yourself short of cash." He looked round
at me enquiringly. "What would you say to a couple of hundred pounds
at six per cent.?"
"I should say thank you," I replied promptly. "It's rather a
lukewarm sort of a phrase, but I can't think of anything better for
the moment."
He pressed a small electric bell in the wall beside him.
"No need for thanks," he repeated. "I shouldn't suggest it if it
wasn't a perfectly sound investment from my point of view. I hope to
make a lot of money out of you before we've finished."
The door opened, and a solemn-faced young man with a large pair of
spectacles on his nose insinuated himself into the room.
"Are you busy, Sandford?" enquired Mr. Drayton, looking up from the
cheque that he was writing.
"Not particularly, sir," replied the solemn-faced young man.
"Well, this is Mr. John Dryden, whom I was speaking to you about. We
are advancing him the sum of two hundred pounds at six per cent.
interest on the Jannaway estate. You might make out a receipt for
him to sign and bring it in here as soon as it's done."
"Very good, sir," responded Mr. Sandford meekly; then he paused.
"Inspector Campbell is downstairs, sir," he added. "He says he will
wait until you are disengaged."
The lawyer nodded. "I shan't be very long," he replied.
Mr. Sandford withdrew as noiselessly as he had entered, and, tearing
off the cheque that he had written, my companion turned back to me.
"Now let me see," he observed thoughtfully; "what's the next thing
we've got to do?"
"The next thing," I said firmly, "is to go out together and have some
lunch. I always make a point of giving a lunch party when I come
into a fortune."
"It's not a bad habit," he admitted, smiling. "Unfortunately, I have
got this man Campbell waiting to see me."
"Bring him along too," I suggested. "You can talk to him while we're
eating."
Mr. Drayton got up from his chair. "We'll put it to him anyway," he
said. "I don't suppose he'll say no. One can generally trust a
Scotchman not to miss anything that's worth having."
He folded the cheque across in the middle and handed it to me.
"How about the receipt?" I asked.
"You can come back this afternoon and sign that. There are one or
two other papers I shall have ready for you by then."
"That will just suit me nicely," I said. "I can go round to Cockspur
Street first and interview the Planet people, then I shall know
exactly where I am."
Taking his hat from a peg behind the door, Mr. Drayton led the way
downstairs. In the small room on the ground floor a large, burly man
with a close-cropped moustache and a chin like the toe of a boot was
standing with his back to the fireplace.
"Morning, Campbell," said Mr. Drayton. "Let me introduce you to Mr.
John Dryden, whom you were clever enough to find for me."
The Inspector stepped forward.
"Pleased to meet you, sir," he observed, extending an enormous hand.
"Mr. Dryden has invited us both out to lunch," continued the lawyer.
"He wants us to assist him in celebrating his sudden accession to
wealth."
The Inspector moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.
"Always glad to oblige a friend of yours, Mr. Drayton," he replied
affably.
"Well, come along then," returned the other, picking up his umbrella
from the stand. "I've got to be back by half-past two, and I hate to
hurry over a meal when somebody else is paying for it." He turned to
me. "The Holborn's the nearest place," he added, "and the head
waiter is one of my clients."
"Providence is with us," I answered hopefully.
We stepped out into the misty drizzle of Bedford Row, and, making our
way down a couple of side alleys, emerged into the crowded main
thoroughfare almost opposite our destination. A few minutes later we
were comfortably seated at a corner table in the big restaurant,
while the head waiter--an impressive gentleman with side
whiskers--hovered benignly in the foreground.
"I have come into a fortune," I explained to him, "and I want a lunch
which will be worthy of the occasion."
With the air of a man who is fully accustomed to deal with such
emergencies he picked up the menu card and began to offer
suggestions, commencing with cocktails and oysters, and wandering on
in a mellow way through saddle of mutton, roast duckling, and Stilton
cheese. I accepted them _en bloc_, and crowned the order by
demanding a bottle of his best champagne--a finishing touch which
brought a wonderfully human expression into the naturally stern face
of the Inspector.
"I was doing a better day's work than I bargained for when I ran
across this gentleman's track," he announced contentedly.
"The Jannaway estate," observed Mr. Drayton, "has certainly passed
into the right hands."
"By the way," I said, turning to the Inspector, "when you were
hunting around after me did you happen to make any discoveries in
connection with my uncle? He seems to have been a queer sort of
customer."
The Inspector passed his hand across his scrubby moustache. "Aye,
sir," he said drily, "he was all of that and a bit over. I can't say
I ever remember a gentleman who managed to keep his affairs more to
himself."
"But surely you picked up some information about him?" I persisted.
"Only what I passed on to Mr. Drayton," he replied. "It didn't
amount to much, as he's probably told you."
"It certainly left one or two things to be explained," assented the
lawyer. "Greensea Island, for instance. I was just saying that Mr.
Jannaway's sudden resolve to imitate Robinson Crusoe was one of the
most extraordinary puzzles I've ever come across."
The Inspector pulled his chair closer to the table.
"I may be wrong," he said quietly, "but it's my belief that he was
frightened--frightened stiff, if you ask me."
I felt a sudden tingle of excitement in my heart, but I don't think I
showed any outward sign of it.
"Why do you think that?" I asked as coolly as possible. "What on
earth could he have to be frightened of?"
The Inspector made a slight gesture with his hands. "That I can't
tell you, sir. I only know that when a man suddenly shuts himself up
on an island, and won't allow a living soul to land there without his
permission, he generally has some pretty good reason at the back of
it."
"Perhaps, after all, it was only a family weakness for solitude,"
struck in Mr. Drayton. "Dryden here intends to do the same thing as
soon as he can arrange it."
"Well, hardly that," I said, forcing a laugh. "I mean to go and live
there certainly, but there won't be any man-traps on my territory."
As I spoke the waiter came up with the cocktails, and in the short
but agreeable pause that followed I rapidly made up my mind that it
would be better for the moment not to press my enquiries about my
uncle any farther. It would be difficult to do so without relating
the story of my meeting with Miss de Roda, and that was a step which
I had no intention of taking. If she were really mixed up with some
sinister mystery concerning the dead man, I would at least take care
that her name should not be dragged into the matter as long as I was
able to prevent it.
Accordingly, with the arrival of the oysters, I took the chance of
steering the conversation into a rather less delicate channel by
asking the Inspector how he had managed to track me down with such
remarkable promptitude. He was ready enough to describe his methods,
and from this point we drifted into a general conversation on
detective work and other exciting topics, which lasted us all through
the remainder of lunch.
Both my companions proved to be excellent talkers, as well as
thoroughly good fellows, and I felt quite sorry when at last Mr.
Drayton suddenly glanced at his watch and announced that it was time
for him to be getting back to the office.
"It's on your account," he explained, buttoning his coat. "Our
friend the doctor will be ringing me up in a minute to find out
whether you are prepared to do a deal with him."
"Tell him I'm sorry," I said, "and say that if he can manage to
forgive me I shall look forward to making his acquaintance. I don't
want to start by quarrelling with my nearest neighbour, especially
after the decent way he has behaved."
"I shouldn't think there was much fear of that," returned the lawyer
reassuringly. "He seems to be a most amiable person, judging from
what I saw of him." He held out his hand. "Thanks for an A1 lunch,"
he added, "and I shall expect you back at the office some time
between four and five."
I paid my bill, and we parted from each other on the pavement
outside, but not before I had extracted from the Inspector (who had
confessed to being "partial to a day's shooting") a promise that he
would come down and spend a week-end with me at Greensea as soon as I
was comfortably settled in. There was something about his stolid but
shrewd personality which distinctly appealed to me, and, in addition
to that I felt that, in view of the curious atmosphere which appeared
to brood over my new inheritance I might find him an uncommonly
useful friend.
My two companions started off together across Holborn, and, turning
down Chancery Lane, I set out for Cockspur Street, where the head
offices of the Planet Line are situated. It was not without certain
misgivings that I mounted the big flight of stone steps and sent in
my card by one of the clerks with a request for an interview with the
secretary. In spite of what I had said to Mr. Drayton, I was in
reality none too certain in my own mind that the management would be
sufficiently obliging to relieve me from the remainder of my
contract. The prospect of another long, monotonous voyage to Manaos
and back was anything but an attractive one, and I waited for my
summons in the outer office with considerable anxiety.
Luck, however, proved to be on my side. One of the principal
directors, whom I knew quite well to speak to, happened to be engaged
with the secretary at the very time when I was shown into the
latter's room. Like myself, both these big-wigs had evidently
lunched well, and when I told them my story and put forward my
request they received it in the friendliest fashion possible.
"You may set your mind quite at rest, Mr. Dryden," said the director,
with a sort of pompous affability. "I will lay your application
before the Board myself, and you can take it from me that there is
not likely to be any opposition. We shall be sorry to lose you, of
course, but I am sure that none of my fellow directors would wish to
stand in your way. Your record since you have been with us is one
which entitles you to every consideration."
Stifling a modest blush, I expressed my thanks as well as I could
manage; and after a little more conversation I shook hands with them
both and took my leave.
I went down the steps and into the street, feeling rather like a man
who has been unexpectedly released from gaol. As if by the wave of a
fairy's wand, everything I wanted seemed suddenly to have come
tumbling into my lap. I had an absurd desire to throw up my hat into
the air and indulge in a triumphant dance round the Nelson Column,
but the cold eye of a neighbouring policeman just saved me from this
social indiscretion.
A glance at my watch showed me that it was close on half-past three,
so, making my way across the square, I started back for Bedford Row.
This time I was not kept waiting on the ground floor. Directly I
arrived the old clerk conducted me upstairs to Mr. Drayton, whom I
found fully prepared for me, with the papers that he wished me to
sign laid out on his desk.
"Well," he said, "you're a bit early, but I'm ready for you. How did
you get on with your resignation?"
I told him of the gratifying fashion in which I had been received,
and he nodded his head, with the half-whimsical expression to which I
was becoming accustomed.
"Nobody could help being civil to you, Dryden," he said. "You're so
refreshingly straightforward."
I thought of the reserve I had practised on him with regard to my
relations with Miss de Roda, and for a moment I felt very much of a
humbug.
"What happened about the doctor?" I asked, by way of covering my
embarrassment. "Was he very upset when he found that I wouldn't
accept his offer?"
"He seemed a bit disgruntled; at least, it sounded like it over the
telephone. I rather think he means to have another shot at you
himself."
"I suppose you made it quite plain to him that I was in earnest?" I
asked.
"Quite," returned the lawyer, "but he's evidently one of those
obstinate cusses who won't take no for an answer. Anyhow, he
insisted on pressing me for your address. I told him that as far as
I knew you were staying on the _Neptune_ for the present, so perhaps
he'll turn up and plead his cause in person."
"He'll have a journey for nothing if he does," I said. "Still,
that's his pigeon, not mine."
I took a seat at the table, and, after reading through the various
documents, which Mr. Drayton explained to me in turn, I signed the
lot one after the other.
"Now we can go straight ahead," he observed, "and get the whole
business cleared up. I have sent a line to Bascomb telling him that
you are his new employer, so you will be able to go and inspect your
property without any fear of his setting the dog on you."
"That's comforting," I said with a laugh. "It would be a rotten
beginning to be torn in pieces on one's own landing-stage." I rose
from my chair and began to collect my hat and umbrella. "I shall run
down there to-morrow or the next day," I added. "It just depends how
soon I can leave the ship."
"Well, let's hear how you get on," he said, giving me his hand, "and
if I can be of the slightest use to you in any way don't hesitate to
let me know. That's the only excuse for a lawyer's existence."
I thanked him once more with a gratitude that was entirely genuine,
and, feeling how extraordinarily lucky I was to have dropped across
such a good friend just when I needed him, I turned up my collar and
set out again on my return journey to Charing Cross.
A clammy, drizzling mist still pervaded everything, but, disdaining a
cab in my present high spirits, I strode briskly along over the wet
pavements. My inward cheerfulness must to some extent have been
reflected in my face, for on two occasions I noticed a
draggled-looking passer-by glance rather curiously at me, as though
he wondered what on earth I could find to be so happy about on such a
damnable afternoon.
When I reached the station I found that my luck was still in. The
train I wanted was standing at the platform, and a minute later I was
being whirled eastwards in the comfortably padded seat of a
half-empty smoker. It had certainly been a well-arranged and
satisfying day.
A short walk from Mark Lane, where I got out, brought me to the Docks
entrance. The fog here was thicker than ever, and a general air of
murky desolation showed that work for the day had come to a
compulsory standstill. I had taken my bearings in the morning,
however, and, without much fear of missing my way, I struck out into
the uninviting gloom.
On the near side of where the _Neptune_ was lying there was a long
stretch of empty dock, with a tall, double lamp-post guarding its
extreme point. I made this landmark safely, and, keeping the edge of
the basin in view on my right, I advanced carefully along the wet
cobblestones.
I had covered perhaps some thirty yards, and was just thinking of the
hot whisky and water that I would order as soon as I got on board,
when I suddenly became conscious of a quick shuffle of footsteps
behind me. Before I could so much as blink an eyelash something dull
and heavy came down with a sickening whack on the back of my head.
The soft hat that I was wearing was driven down violently over my
face, and, half-stunned by the blow, I stumbled forward on to my
hands and knees.
What happened after that will always remain a trifle blurred. I have
a vague impression of trying to scramble to my feet, and of receiving
a violent shove which sent me sprawling sideways, with one arm and
leg dangling over the edge of the parapet. I remember making a
frantic clutch at the slippery stone in a vain effort to save myself;
then the ground seemed to give way beneath me, and I went lurching
wildly down through space into the black water below.