Although I was half prepared for what he said, the announcement left
me momentarily dumb.
"Dead!" I repeated at last. "Bascomb dead! How in God's name was he
killed?"
The Sergeant looked at me with a certain sympathy in his stolid
features.
"We reckon he must have run into the jetty in the fog last night, and
upset his boat. As like as not he stunned himself at the same time;
anyhow, he was found lying on the mud this morning with a gash in his
head that you could shove a couple of fingers into."
"We got the dinghy all right," put in the landlord. "It was floatin'
about the estuary bottom upwards."
I caught Bobby's eyes fixed upon my face, and I knew that the same
thought was in both our minds.
"This is pretty bad news, Sergeant," I said. "What do you think I
ought to do?"
The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, sir, I take it the
first thing's for you to come ashore with us and identify the body.
There'll have to be an inquest, of course, but seein' as the
Coroner's away at Ipswich I don't suppose it will be until the day
after to-morrow." He paused. "Per'aps you know where the poor
fellow belonged, mister? If so we shall have to write and tell his
relatives."
I shook my head. "I haven't the slightest notion," I said. "He had
been with my uncle for some time, and I re-engaged him on the
lawyer's recommendation. He wasn't the sort of man to talk about his
own affairs."
"That's a fact," added the landlord emphatically. "If ever there was
a bloke who kept his mouth shut----"
"It ain't of no real consequence," interrupted the Sergeant with some
dignity. "The police can always find out what they want sooner or
later." He turned to me. "If it's convenient to you, mister, I
reckon we'd better get across at once. The doctor's examinin' the
corpse, and mebbe 'e'd like to have a talk with you."
"The doctor?" I repeated. "What doctor?"
"Doctor 'Ayward of Torrington," was the answer. "He came over in the
car with me as soon as we got the message."