"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.