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 the _Daily Mail_ come 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.