"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 of
_Jackanapes_. 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."