"Just gorn 'aff-past eight, sir."
I opened my eyes with some resentment, and found Bascomb standing
beside me, a cup of tea in his hand. I blinked at him for a moment
and then sat up in bed.
"Might it be you as got up in the night and let Satan in?" he
enquired surlily.
For a second I hesitated, wondering how much he knew.
"Were you awake?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No, I didn't 'ear nothin', but when I come
through this mornin', danged if 'e wasn't sitting there on the mat."
He placed the cup on a small table beside me, and, crossing the room,
drew up the blind.
"I changed my mind after I had gone to bed," I explained. "I felt I
should sleep better if I knew that Satan was downstairs." I took a
sip of the tea, and reaching out for my case, helped myself to a
cigarette. "You can call the doctor in about ten minutes," I added.
"I'll have my bath first and get out of his way."
Bascomb nodded and left the room without any further remark, though
from the expression on his face I think he had a dim suspicion that I
was keeping something back. Perhaps I should have been wiser to take
him completely into my confidence, but to tell the truth I was half
ashamed to confess the bungling way in which I had handled the
business. Besides, faithful as I believed him to be, there was such
a queer, sullen twist in his temper that I never felt quite certain
how far it would be safe to trust him.
Washing and shaving are occupations which lend themselves to
reflection, and I certainly found plenty to think about during the
quarter of an hour that I spent in the bathroom. On the whole, as a
result of my musings, I was inclined to take a slightly less
pessimistic view of the situation. Although I had not exactly
covered myself with glory as a private detective, I had at least
established the truth of my theory that Manning possessed some strong
and urgent reason for wishing to explore the house. Indeed, judging
by the risks he had run, it looked as if the success of his schemes
depended largely upon this particular point, and if that were the
case I had apparently shoved a pretty effective spoke in his wheel.
All the same, I didn't quite like the way in which he had accepted
his defeat. Even allowing for his cleverness and self-control, it
was difficult to imagine that anyone who had been balked at the last
moment in some vital enterprise could have betrayed so little sign of
feeling. Disappointed he had certainly appeared, but it had been the
disappointment of a man who has merely lost a trick which he hoped to
gain, and who still cherishes a fond belief that he is going to win
the rubber.
I wondered very much what he thought about my part in the
performance. There had been, to put it mildly, a timeliness about my
appearance on the scene which could hardly have failed to awake his
suspicions. These were not likely to have been lessened by the
deliberate way in which I had let Satan into the house, though in
either case my action might very well have borne the innocent
interpretation that I had attempted to give it. He was probably in a
state of considerable uncertainty on the subject, and it was pleasant
to feel that I was paying him back a small instalment of all the
worry he had caused me.
What I would have given anything for was a good long chat with Bobby.
I am all right in a straight-forward scrap, but I knew that at this
sort of business his head was worth a dozen of mine, and that he
would most likely pounce upon some important point which I had
completely overlooked. Indeed, if it had not been for my appointment
with Mr. Drayton I should have run up to Harwich to see him; as it
was, I should have to put off our talk until my return from London.
On my way back to my room I tapped at Manning's door and informed him
that the bath was ready.
He called out: "Come in," and, accepting his invitation, I discovered
him in the act of sharpening his razor, which he had apparently just
finished using. He greeted me with a friendly wave of the strop.
"How goes it?" he enquired cheerily. "I hope you managed to get off
to sleep. I put in a couple of hours, and I feel as fit as a fiddle
this morning."
"That's good," I replied. "You'll be able to do justice to Bascomb's
bacon. It's one of the few things he's really sensitive about."
He smiled, and crossing to the washstand began to collect his sponge
and towels.
"Did you tell him about our adventures?" he asked. "He must have
guessed that somebody got up in the night when he found Satan in the
hall this morning."
"I explained that I let him in," I answered. "I was too sleepy to go
into details." I paused. "Besides, the whole thing sounds rather
ridiculous by daylight, doesn't it?"
"Well, I suppose it might strike anyone else as being a bit comic,"
he admitted. "Better say nothing about it perhaps; we should be
frightfully chipped at the club if the story got round."
His tone was light, almost careless, but it seemed to me that my
answer had afforded him considerable relief. I made a mental note of
the fact with a view to passing it on to Bobby.
"If I'm not in the dining-room when you come down," I said, "you'll
find me just outside the front door. Satan and I generally take a
little air before breakfast."
I left him on his way to the bath, and, re-entering my own room,
proceeded to dress myself in a new suit of blue serge, which I had
bought during my previous visit to London. Thus arrayed, and feeling
unusually respectable, I descended into the hall, where, as I
expected, I discovered Satan still occupying the same position on the
hearthrug.
He got up as I appeared, and, after stretching himself elaborately,
followed me to the French window, which was standing partly open.
Here, contrary to his custom, he halted, looking round rather
doubtfully, as though not quite certain whether it was safe to leave
the place unguarded.
"Perhaps you're right, my son," I said. "We can't be too careful.
You sit here and let me know when he comes down."
I patted his head and stepped out on to the lawn, where a couple of
fat thrushes were hopping lazily about in the sunshine. It was
another beautiful morning, hot and still as August, with an almost
unnaturally blue sky, unchequered by the smallest cloud. I walked
across to the border opposite, and with some care selected myself a
small buttonhole. If I was going to play the part of country
gentleman visiting his solicitor I might as well do the thing
thoroughly.
At the very moment when I had succeeded in fixing it in my coat there
came a warning growl from Satan. Strolling back to the window, I
found Manning in the act of descending the staircase. He looked very
cool and debonair in his grey flannels, and, in spite of Satan's
inhospitable greeting, he seemed as usual entirely at his ease.
"You're a good host yourself, Dryden," he remarked, "but I'm hanged
if I can say the same for your retainers. That dog resents my being
here quite as much as Bascomb does."
"He is just as bad with everyone," I returned. "Uncle Richard
evidently infected the entire staff."
I had hardly finished speaking when the dining-room door opened, and
Bascomb himself appeared on the threshold. I don't know if he had
overheard our remarks, for his face was as impassive as ever.
"Breakfast's ready," he announced curtly.
We took our places at the table, where a dish of eggs and bacon, a
fresh tongue, and various other attractive items awaited our arrival.
I poured Manning out a cup of coffee and told him to help himself to
what he fancied.
"You look devilish smart to-day, Dryden," he remarked smilingly. "I
believe I have a sort of reputation here for being the local dandy,
but now you've come I'm afraid I shall have to take a back seat."
"I have to go up to town to see Drayton," I explained. "I always put
on my best clothes when I visit a lawyer."
I thought it would be the safest plan to tell him the truth, for it
was more than possible he might find it out for himself.
"That's rather a pity," he observed. "I was going to suggest that
you should come over and have a look at the barge." He paused. "How
long are you likely to be away?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Goodness knows," I said carelessly. "I
daresay I shall be back to-morrow. I believe he only wants me to
sign a few papers."
There was a brief pause while Manning sipped his coffee.
"Well, as the Arabs say, 'To-morrow is also a day,'" he returned,
putting down his cup. "Just get in your boat and come across any
afternoon you feel like it. I'll show you the barge, and then we
might go along and dine at the club afterwards."
I thanked him with every appearance of sincerity, though the sinister
humour of the whole situation nearly made me laugh out loud. I felt
sure, too, that under that imperturbable mask of his Manning must be
appreciating it quite as much as I did.
If such were the case, however, he kept his feelings well under
control, and we finished our meal without the least suggestion on
either side of anything but the most perfect friendliness. After a
cigar in the garden my companion went upstairs to pack his bag, and
then, followed by Satan, we sauntered down to the landing-stage,
where he proceeded to get out his boat.
"Thanks for a charming evening," he said, shaking my hand. "Remember
me to Drayton, and mind you come and look me up as soon as you get
back."
I made some suitable answer, and, settling down in his seat, he
pulled off with the smooth, easy stroke of a practised oarsman. I
stood and watched him till he reached the mouth of the creek, where
he waved his hand to me before disappearing round the bend. Then I
walked across to Satan, who was sitting by himself on the edge of the
jetty staring resentfully after the vanished boat.
"It's no good looking like that," I said. "If you had been a little
more civil you would probably have been included in the invitation."
I think he understood what I meant, for, rising to his feet with a
disdainful expression, he strolled off ahead of me in the direction
of the house. There were evidently some subjects on which he
regarded humour as being completely out of place.
When I arrived back I found Bascomb clearing away the breakfast
things.
"I am going up to town by the twelve-forty," I said. "I suppose I
can get a trap at the inn to take me to Torrington?"
He nodded his head.
"They'll run you over right enough," he replied. "Mebbe I'd better
slip across an' tell 'em though; they might be fixin' up with another
party otherwise." He paused. "Are you comin' back to-night?" he
enquired.
"No," I said, "I have got some business with Mr. Drayton. I shall
probably be down to-morrow, but if not I'll let you know."
He finished clearing up and collected the debris on to a tray.
"'Ow about visitors?" he enquired. "I s'pose you don't want no one
on the island, not while you're away?"
"There's one person I don't want," I said, "and that's Dr. Manning."
I stopped, and then, feeling that I must at least make some
appearance of taking him into my confidence, I added: "You were
perfectly right about him, Bascomb. He's a rascal, only he's a
damned clever one. I couldn't get anything out of him last night,
try as I would. All the same, I'm more certain than ever that he's
up to some dirty business."
A gleam of approval flickered across my companion's face.
"You can trust me safe enough, guv'nor," he returned. "'E won't set
foot again in this 'ouse while I'm 'ere--not 'im nor that
broken-nosed blighter Craill neither."
He brought out the epithet so unexpectedly that it was all I could do
to keep back a sudden exclamation.
"Craill!" I repeated. "Isn't that the fellow who looks after his
barge?"
Once again Bascomb nodded sourly. "That's 'im--an' you can take it
from me that 'e's the right bloke for the job."
A vision of that furtive, sinister figure hanging about outside Mr.
Drayton's office rose vividly in my mind.
"Yes," I said, with intentional carelessness, "I should think they
were a very nicely matched pair. How did Craill manage to break his
nose?"
"Someone done it for 'im, I reckon. Pity they didn't break his neck
too while they was about it."
Lifting the tray, Bascomb marched off through the side door, and
after a moment's hesitation Satan got up and followed him.
I crossed the room to the window and sat down on the sill. I felt
like a man who by pure accident has suddenly picked up the very piece
of a jig-saw puzzle for which he has long been vainly hunting. Ever
since my first meeting with Manning I had had a suspicion that in
some way or other he was chiefly responsible for that impromptu
swimming exhibition of mine in the East India Dock. Bascomb's
description of Craill placed the matter beyond doubt. Unless there
was an epidemic of broken noses, the latter was certainly the man I
had seen loafing about Bedford Row, and the odds were a hundred to
one that it was his hand which had so nearly put an end to my
troubles.
As to what possible motive or motives could have possessed this
precious pair, I was as much in the dark as ever. They could not
have been acting on behalf of de Roda, for I had Christine's
assurance that until she and her uncle had arrived in England neither
of them had had the least notion that such a person as Dr. Manning
existed. My attempted murder must, therefore, have been a strictly
private enterprise, and the only reason I could see for it was the
fact that I had refused to sell the island.
Now, annoying as it is to be thwarted in a scheme of land purchase,
people generally stop short of assassination as a method of
expressing their disappointment. There must have been some very
powerful inducement to lead Manning to such a desperate step, for,
utterly unscrupulous as I believed him to be, he was too intelligent
to run his neck into danger unless the stake at issue was well worth
the risk.
Could it be possible that while he was on the island he had stumbled
independently upon my uncle's secret? It was a new idea, but the
more I thought it over the more feasible it seemed. It at least gave
some explanation for his extraordinary anxiety to get hold of
Greensea, and it might account for the curious dread with which
Christine seemed to regard him.
If this were really the truth, the whole question of his relations
with the de Rodas became one of the utmost importance. Did he know
the reason which had brought them all the way from South America,
and, if so, had he purposely made friends with them in order to
achieve his own ends? From what I had seen of the two men I could
well imagine that de Roda, broken in health and in the grip of some
half-insane purpose, might clutch eagerly at the unexpected
assistance that was suddenly offered him. That Manning's motives for
entering into any such partnership must have been purely selfish I
had no manner of doubt. Possibly he was in ignorance about some
essential point on which de Roda was the only person able to
enlighten him, or perhaps--and at the mere notion I felt the blood
surge hotly through my heart--it was Christine's beauty which had
been the lure that had attracted him. Once more the recollection of
that scene outside "The Laurels" came back to me with extraordinary
clearness. I could see the expression on Manning's face as
distinctly as if I were still crouching behind the hedge, and with a
half-suppressed oath I flung open the lattice window and got up from
the sill. It was certainly fortunate for one or other of us that he
was no longer on the island.
Looking back indeed, I have often wondered since how I managed to get
through that morning without doing something idiotic. The temptation
to jump into my boat, row over to the barge, and settle up matters
with Manning once and for all, was at times so strong that it became
almost irresistible. By packing my bag and otherwise occupying
myself, however, I succeeded in holding out until Bascomb returned
from the inn, bringing the news that a trap was in readiness to take
me to the station.
"You'd better let me run yer across," he added. "Then the boat'll be
'ere in case I wants it."
"I can easily send it back by Jimmy," I objected. "Isn't it a bit
risky for both of us to be away at the same time?"
"I reckon there won't be no risk," he replied grimly. "If anyone
comes messin' about 'ere the next 'alf hour it's a ---- certainty
wot'll 'appen to them."
A glance at Satan's expression convinced me that there was some truth
in what he said, so without making any further difficulties I
consented to his proposal.
He carried my bag down to the landing-stage and rowed me across to
the jetty opposite, where I stepped out discreetly, so as to avoid
soiling my new suit.
"Good-bye, Bascomb," I said. "I shall tell Mr. Drayton how well
you've looked after me."
For a moment he seemed almost embarrassed. "That's all right,
guv'nor," he returned gruffly. "I ain't the bloke to go back on
anyone wot's treated me fair."
He settled down again to his oars, and, picking up my bag, I started
off in the direction of the shore. Outside the inn a smart-looking
horse and trap were waiting my arrival. The driver, a shock-headed
youth who might have been an elder brother of Jimmy, touched his cap
to me as I clambered in, and the next minute we were bowling off up
the hill on our way to Torrington.
During the journey to town I divided my time between pondering
fitfully over my own affairs and listening to the improving
conversation of my fellow travellers--a Baptist minister and his
wife, who were going up to London to attend their aunt's funeral.
They were a very staid and respectable couple, and, sitting back in
my corner, I could not help wondering what they would say if I were
suddenly to put my difficulties before them and ask them for their
advice.
Such an interesting experiment being unfortunately out of the
question, we reached Liverpool Street with the problem still
unsolved. A porter from the Great Eastern Hotel came forward as I
stepped out of the carriage, and, since I had made no arrangements to
stay anywhere else, I allowed him to take possession of my bag. He
conducted me up some stairs to the office, where, after a brief
parley with the reception clerk, I was duly accepted as a desirable
guest.
My first step, after going to my room and having a wash, was to
telephone to Mr. Drayton. I was informed that he was still out at
lunch, but had left a message, in case I rang up, that he would be
able to see me any time between three and four. It was then getting
on for half-past two, so, having treated myself to a glass of sherry
and a sandwich, I started off straight away for Bedford Row.
I kept a pretty sharp look-out as I turned the corner into that
respectable thoroughfare, but this time no one seemed to be taking
the least interest in my movements. The street indeed was
practically deserted, and it was almost with a feeling of neglect
that I pushed open the front door and sought out my aged friend in
his little rabbit hutch on the right. He informed me that the head
of the firm had just returned, and conducted me upstairs with
impressive formality. In his eyes I had evidently attained the rank
of a distinguished and valuable client.
There was nothing of this about the bearing of Mr. Drayton, however,
who greeted me with a cheerful lack of ceremony that was much more to
my taste. As before, he insisted on my accepting one of his
excellent cigars, and then, having asked me several questions as to
how I was getting on, he proceeded to explain his reasons for
bringing me up to town.
"I've something to tell you, Dryden," he said, "that I think you'll
probably approve of. The fact is, we have been getting on with your
affairs a good deal faster than I expected. For once in a way I have
actually persuaded the British law to hustle itself, and, to cut a
long story short, you can dip your fingers into Uncle Richard's
money-box just as soon as ever you like." He leaned back in his
chair and regarded me with a friendly twinkle. "I know you're tired
of travelling, but I thought that this particular bit of news was
worth a journey to town."
"I should rather think it was," I replied, with considerable
enthusiasm. Then, jumping from my seat, I gripped his hand heartily
in mine. "I'm blessed if I know how to thank you," I added. "I am
no good at making pretty speeches, so you must take the will for the
deed."
Mr. Drayton extricated his fingers, and examined them with a rather
rueful smile.
"There's no need to apologise," he said. "Your gratitude's quite
pressing enough for me." He rose to his feet and, turning towards
the table, pulled forward a bundle of papers. "There are one or two
things here that want signing, and then I think I had better take you
round to the bank, before they shut, and introduce you to the
manager. It's only just across the road in Holborn."
I sat down at the table, and scribbled my name in the spaces he
pointed out. I suppose I ought really to have read the documents
through, but so complete was my confidence in his good faith that I
made no attempt at this elementary precaution.
"You have got a delightfully trustful nature, Dryden," he said with a
sigh. "I wish I inspired the same sort of feeling in all my clients."
He rang the bell for his clerk, and, having informed the latter that
he would be out for the next quarter of an hour, he picked up his hat
and led the way downstairs.
"Are you staying in town to-night?" he enquired as we emerged into
Bedford Row. "If so, and you have nothing better to do, come and
dine with me at my club. It's very dull, but you're not likely to
notice that after a fortnight at Greensea Island."
Had I chosen I think I might have been able to disillusion him on the
subject of Greensea's dullness, but for the present at all events I
still thought it wiser to keep my own counsel. So with a perfectly
truthful remark that I was never bored in good company, I laughingly
accepted his invitation, and without further discussion we turned
down a narrow passage into the roar and bustle of Holborn.
Our interview with the bank was not a very formidable affair. We
were shown into a private room, where a brisk, bald-headed little man
with gold-rimmed eye-glasses was seated at a table several sizes too
large for him.
Mr. Drayton introduced me as the heir to the Jannaway fortunes, and
the manager--for such the bald-headed gentleman proved to
be--congratulated me cordially on what he termed my "romantic
inheritance." He announced that a sum of eleven thousand and
forty-five pounds seven shillings and six-pence was lying in the
office awaiting my attention--a statement which I tried to receive
with becoming nonchalance. At his request I wrote out a specimen of
my signature, receiving in return a useful-looking cheque-book. He
then informed me that if at any time I needed expert financial advice
he would be delighted to place himself at my disposal; after which he
again shook hands with us both, and escorted us in state to the door
of the bank.
"I like being a capitalist," I observed, as we stood for a moment on
the step. "It's a much more restful life than the sea, and everybody
one meets is so extraordinarily obliging."
Mr. Drayton chuckled appreciatively. "Wait till I've sent you in my
bill," he retorted. "You'll have some excuse for feeling cynical
then." He dived into his pocket and produced a card-case. "Here's
the address of my club," he added, "in case you forget it. I must be
off now, but I'll expect you at seven-thirty. Don't dress up and
make yourself beautiful--come along just as you are."
With a friendly wave he disappeared amongst the traffic, while almost
at the same moment a prowling taxi pulled up in the gutter. I moved
forward and accosted the driver.
"Have you ever heard of a place called Angel Court, somewhere off
Fleet Street?" I asked him.
He eyed me critically.
"Are you wantin' Inspector Campbell's office?" he enquired.
"Yes," I said. "Do you know him?"
He leaned across and opened the door. "Know 'im," he repeated rather
scornfully. "Why, 'e pinched a bloke outer this very cab last March
twelve-months. There ain't a taxi driver in London as don't know
'Foxy' Campbell."
Considerably impressed with this unexpected tribute to the
Inspector's reputation, I climbed inside the vehicle. We sped away
rapidly through a number of side turnings, coming out at last within
a few yards of the bottom of Fleet Street. A moment later the taxi
pulled up, and as I stepped out the driver jerked his thumb in the
direction of a narrow archway.
"That's Hangel Court," he said. "You'll find the party you're
looking for the second door on the right."
I thanked him, and, passing through the opening, entered a kind of
paved yard, on three sides of which were quaint narrow little houses
with old-fashioned window-panes. The second doorway bore a carefully
polished brass plate, with the inscription "James Campbell. Private
Enquiry Agent."
I was just hunting around for a bell when suddenly the door swung
back, and, looking up, I found myself face to face with the Inspector
himself. He was evidently on the point of going out, for he was
wearing a bowler hat and carrying a walking-stick.
Directly he saw me his big square-jawed face lit up in a smile of
welcome.
"Why, it's Mr. Dryden," he exclaimed, holding out his hand. "Well,
this is a bit of luck. If you had been a moment later you'd just
have missed me."
"It's my lucky day," I said "But, all the same, I mustn't keep you if
you've got an appointment."
"It's nothing very important," he replied. "Come along inside. I
can spare a minute or two anyhow."
He led the way into a comfortably furnished office on the right, and,
pulling forward a chair, seated himself exactly opposite me. His
large and very wide-awake blue eyes scanned me with friendly interest.
"I'd better start by apologising," he began. "You mustn't think I've
forgotten your invitation to come down and have a bit of shooting,
but the fact is I've been so busy I've had no time to write. People
have been misbehaving themselves the last three weeks in a way you
wouldn't believe; I suppose it's the hot weather."
"I shouldn't wonder," I said. "I've felt a little vicious myself
once or twice." I tossed away the stump of the cigar I was holding
and helped myself to another from the case which he offered me. "As
far as the invitation goes," I added, "it's open permanently. I am
not the sort of a person who wants a lot of notice. Just send along
a wire as soon as the crime wave subsides."
"The very minute," he said with a twinkle. Then, putting his thumbs
in his waistcoat, he leaned back comfortably in his chair. "And how
are you getting on down there?" he asked. "You know, I take a
special interest in your affairs, Mr. Dryden. There's something
about Greensea Island that I didn't quite get to the bottom of, and
no one likes to be hit in his professional pride."
He spoke in such a frank and good-humoured fashion that once again I
was sorely tempted to make a clean breast of my difficulties. I
stuck to my resolve, however, for the thought of Christine as the
central figure in some public scandal was too utterly repugnant to be
considered. At the same time I felt that in the case of Inspector
Campbell a certain measure of honesty would undoubtedly be the best
policy.
"As a matter of fact," I said, looking him straight in the face,
"I've come here to ask you for your help."
He nodded his head.
"I thought you might," he said. "That was one reason why I gave you
my address."
"The trouble is this," I went on bluntly. "I want you to do
something for me, but for certain reasons which I can't explain it's
quite impossible for me to answer any questions. I know it sounds
pretty rotten, so I shan't be the least surprised or offended if you
tell me to go to the devil."
He smiled genially. "That's the last thing I should do, Mr. Dryden.
There's no sense in encouraging a rival firm." He paused. "You know
your own business best, of course, but if there's any particular way
in which I can be of assistance you can count on me from this minute."
"Well, there is," I confessed. "You remember a chap called Dr.
Manning--the fellow who looked after my uncle when he was dying?"
Once again the Inspector nodded. "Yes," he answered. "I remember
him very distinctly. He lived on a barge about three hundred yards
above the island."
"That's the gentleman," I said. "He's living there still; in fact,
to all intents and purposes he's my next-door neighbour. What I want
you to do, if you can possibly spare the time, is to get me a little
accurate information about his past life."
If my companion felt any surprise or curiosity he certainly didn't
show it.
"That oughtn't to be very difficult," was his reply. "Doctors are
fairly easy to trace as a rule." He reached across to the table and
picked up a half sheet of notepaper. "Has he ever mentioned a
particular town, or given you any idea of what hospital he was at?"
"He once told me he had been a ship's surgeon," I said. "It was
probably a lie, so I shouldn't attach much importance to it."
The Inspector made a brief note. "One never knows," he observed
hopefully. "People sometimes tell the truth by accident. They
generally regret it afterwards."
A telephone bell tinkled sharply in the corner of the room, and with
a word of excuse he rose from his seat and walked across to the
instrument.
"Yes," he said. "I'm Campbell--speaking." There was a pause.
"What's that?" Another and longer pause followed. "Oh, very well.
Don't let him go. I'll be round almost immediately."
He hung up the receiver and turned back to me.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm afraid I shall have to run away after
all. I have got to meet a man who wants to leave for Scotland this
afternoon." He folded up the paper he was holding, and put it away
carefully in his pocket "I'll get on to this little job at once. You
shall hear from me directly there's any news."
"Thanks," I said gratefully; "and, meanwhile, if the wicked should
happen to cease from troubling----"
"You'll not only hear from me, but see me."
He gave me a friendly grip, and, collecting his hat and stick, led
the way out into the yard. We walked together under the archway and
emerged on to the crowded pavement of Fleet Street.
"There's one thing I should like to add, Mr. Dryden," he said, just
before we parted. "If you ever find yourself in real difficulty or
actual danger, don't hesitate to let me know. Whatever I'm doing I
shan't be too busy to lend you a hand."
I tried to thank him, but, without waiting to listen, he stepped off
into the roadway, and a moment later he was swallowed up amongst the
traffic.
Brief as our interview had been, however, it had left me in a very
satisfied frame of mind. From what I had seen of the Inspector I
felt pretty sure that if there was anything worth knowing about
Manning's past career he would soon succeed in ferreting it out.
Apart from that, the knowledge that in a tight corner I should have
him as well as Bobby at my back was the kind of encouraging thought
that would have put heart into a rabbit.
My good spirits were in no way damped by one or two drops of rain,
which at that moment, much to my surprise, began to dot the pavement.
Looking up, I noticed for the first time that a change was taking
place in the weather. A great bank of cloud was creeping slowly up
from the east, and spreading in a black, threatening line all across
the sky.
Manning's prophecy at once came into my mind, but, not being
particularly anxious for a ducking, I wasted no time in further
reflections. Hailing a passing taxi, I instructed the man to take me
back to the Great Eastern Hotel, which I reached in comfort and
dryness just as the rain began to descend in a steady drizzle.
There was nothing to do under the circumstances but to make the best
of things indoors. I am never at a loss how to amuse myself if I can
get a game of billiards, and I soon discovered that the hotel
possessed a couple of excellent tables, presided over by a red-headed
marker, who spoke Scotch and looked as if he drank it.
We played several hundred up with varying success; and at six-thirty,
feeling quite ready to face a good dinner, I set out for Mr.
Drayton's club. As an additional encouragement to my appetite I
walked the whole way to St. James's Street, for by this time,
although the pavements were still wet, the rain itself had
practically ceased falling.
The club proved to be a big, sombre establishment, inhabited chiefly
by middle-aged gentlemen of a distinctly morose aspect. What they
had to be morose about I can't imagine, for a better meal than the
one put before us I never wish to eat. Mr. Drayton, who was waiting
for me in the hall and conducted me straight into the dining-room,
confessed frankly that he had joined the place purely for the sake of
its excellent cooking, and the respect which I already had for his
judgment rose steadily with each succeeding course.
After dinner we made our way to the smoking-room upstairs, where,
with the assistance of a couple of leather arm-chairs and a plentiful
supply of whisky and soda, the time passed away so pleasantly that it
was close on midnight before I got back to my own bed at the hotel.
The whisky must have been of the same high quality as the rest of the
food, for in spite of the amount that I had put away, I woke up next
morning feeling remarkably fit and cheerful. One of the first things
I did was to pull aside the blind and have a look at the weather.
The result was not encouraging, for my window faced on to a blank
wall of dirty white brick, and in the intervening space a thin grey
drizzle was coming down with monotonous persistence.
Once more Manning's predictions about a sudden change in the weather
came back to my memory. If it were like this in London, the odds
were that Greensea Island would be wrapped in a regular sea fog,
which I knew from experience might last for several days. However, I
consoled myself with the comforting reflection that it would save me
a deal of hard work with the watering can, and that, after all, I was
no longer compelled to tramp up and down a dripping bridge with a
miniature trout stream trickling down the back of my neck.
I had made up my mind to go back by the mid-day train, which gets
into Torrington somewhere about two o'clock. There were several
things I still wanted to buy, and, now that I was actually in town,
it seemed a pity to waste such a favourable opportunity. I had no
wish to get soaked through, however, so on my way down to the
dining-room I gave the hall porter a sovereign and told him to go out
and buy me an umbrella. He returned with a sporting-looking affair,
the handle of which terminated in a bull-dog's head. Though a trifle
spectacular, it was a sound article for the money, and, armed with
this and my cheque book, I set off after breakfast, pleasantly
determined to make a good opening in Uncle Richard's life savings.
As intentions go, it must be admitted that I was fairly successful.
In addition to half a dozen things I bought for myself, I discovered
in a Bond Street jeweller's a perfectly charming little emerald
pendant, which struck me at once as having been obviously designed
for Christine. Under the circumstances twenty-five pounds seemed to
be a ridiculously cheap price, but I felt that it was unnecessary to
point this out to the shopman, who appeared quite satisfied with the
transaction.
Returning to the hotel with my purchases, I made an early but
excellent lunch off cold duck and salad, and at a quarter to one I
was steaming out through the damp squalor of East London, comfortably
established in the corner seat of a first-class smoker.
It was a cheerless journey, for all the way down a driving rain beat
incessantly upon the windows, and most of the landscape was blotted
out by drifting clouds of mist.
At Torrington things were not much better. It was not actually
raining, but the little cobble-paved market-place reeked with wet,
and a depressing air of forlorn moisture brooded over the entire
place.
Packing myself and my belongings into a solitary growler which was
standing in the gutter, I instructed the man to take me as far as the
Gunner's Arms. We plodded off, and, after half an hour's drive
between dripping hedgerows, came out at last over the brow of the
long slope that overlooks the estuary. I lowered the sash, and,
putting my head out of the window, inspected the prospect. Down
below, the roof of the inn was just visible, but the harbour itself
and everything beyond was hidden under a pall of fog, which stretched
like a grey shroud over the whole length of the estuary. There was
something singularly sinister and desolate about the whole scene, and
for a moment I felt a pang of regret for the comfortable
billiard-room which I had so recently quitted.
We came to a halt on the quay in front of the inn, deserted for once
by its usual sprinkling of boatmen and barge hands. Our arrival had
been observed, however, for scarcely had we pulled up when I saw the
small figure of Jimmy emerge from the stable door and come hurrying
down the yard towards us. He touched his damp curls with a cheerful
grin of welcome.
"I reckoned it was you, guv'nor," he remarked "You ain't bin away
long, an' that's a fact."
"Quite long enough, Jimmy," I returned. "At all events, you've had
time to mess up the weather."
He took the bag which I handed out, and at the same time cast a
rather disgusted glance into the surrounding gloom.
"It's a treat, ain't it!" he observed. "Come on like this yes'day
afternoon." Then, drawing a little nearer, he added in a lowered
voice: "There's a letter for you at the 'ouse, guv'nor. The young
laidy give it me laite las' night, an' I took it across at
once--saime as you told me."
I tried to cover my unseemly elation by lighting a cigarette. "Where
did you meet her?" I enquired.
"She come down to the quay. I see 'er standin' there in the dark,
an' I says to me self, As like as not she's wantin' me. So I just
slips over alongside of 'er, an' without sayin' nothin' she shoves
the letter in my 'and and orf she goes."
I looked at him gratefully. "You're a stout fellow, James," I said
"I knew I could depend on you directly I saw you."
He waited until I had paid the cabman, and then, shouldering my bag,
accompanied me to the boat.
"I seen 'er again since then," he continued confidentially. "I was
comin' along Duke's Laine about 'alf an hour ago, an' she was waitin'
to go aboard the doctor's barge."