Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 13
“Must have scrambled down to the pier and then gone home across the sands. Tide would wash out his footmarks.”
Colin’s explanation hardly satisfied him. It demanded quick movement on the part of the man, since he must have got well away before Colin recommenced his search after returning from the house. That fellow was in no condition to walk, or even to creep at any speed. And yet, there were the facts. He had got away, however it had been managed.
“Damn funny!” was Colin’s rather unhappy summary of the case.
He glanced down at the little bay; and the sight of the Heather Lodge pleasure-boat, by some curious association, brought into his mind the words that the girl had sung last night:
As I went down to Shrewsbury Town,
I come by luck on a silver crown . . .
Colin gave a faint chuckle as he recalled them.
“Wonder what sort of song the cove would have made of it if he’d come by luck on a golden brick, like me?” he reflected. “What the devil am I to do with the thing, anyway? One can’t pocket a hundred quids’ worth of gold and say nothing about it. I’ll have to hunt the beggar up and hand it back to him. Then he’ll have to explain the whole affair.”
As he turned away from the bay a fresh thought struck him and he retraced his steps to the spot where he had found the injured man.
“That track was the way he left,” he mused, “But he must have made another track through the lupins, getting here. Let’s have a look for it.”
This second track he did at last manage to discover. It was much less conspicuous than the alley down to the pier, and Colin had overlooked it in his excitement at finding the plainer route. The new trail led him through the lupins in the direction of Heather Lodge; and when it came out from among the stems, it was lost in the rocks and heather which fringed the low slope of the bay.
But now Colin had some second thoughts. All that the facts showed was the presence of two trails. So far as that went, the man might have come along the sands and returned by the cliff-top to Heather Lodge. There was no proof that he had left via the pier stairs.
The sun was well above the horizon now, and Colin glanced again at his watch, as he turned back towards Wester Voe. Could he creep up to bed without waking Jean? And that mental inquiry turned his thoughts in a fresh direction. Should he say anything about this affair to Jean? She certainly wouldn’t relish the idea of people sneaking about Wester Voe in the dark. It would make her nervous, spoil some of her pleasure in the place, probably. Much better to keep his thumb on the business, say nothing about it at all, unless something forced his hand. No need to worry Jean with it. And when he returned the gold brick to its owner he could give the fellow a straight tip not to come skulking about Wester Voe in the dark again. But probably the lesson he’d had already would have cured him of that, Colin decided grimly.
CHAPTER IV
THE BIRD WATCHER
REFRESHED by an unbroken night’s sleep, Jean came downstairs to find, as a pleasant surprise, that the breakfast table had been set in the south loggia, overlooking the bay. The clouds had passed in the early morning; overhead the sky was fleckless, and a light haze on the sea gave promise of a brilliant day. Jean crossed the loggia and, leaning on the balustrade, looked out at the flickering of the sunlight on the wave-crests. In her case, second impressions of Ruffa were even happier than the first ones. Already she was setting to work to plan out her day: an exploration of the islet in the morning, a cruise in the motor-boat in the afternoon, and a quiet evening in the garden. Then she would have seen her new kingdom from all points of view.
Colin made his appearance almost immediately. Jean’s quick glance, piercing his pretence of briskness, detected the underlying lethargy due to his vigil in the small hours.
“I slept like a log last night, Colin. You don’t look as if you had, somehow. What was wrong?”
Colin shrugged his shoulders to dismiss the point.
“Excitement following on our arrival,” he said truthfully, but with enough irony in his tone to make his remark misleading. “Not used to that sort of thing, you know.”
“When did yon get to bed?” Jean demanded suspiciously.
“Don’t know, really,” Colin confessed, sticking to the literal truth. “Got interested in the wireless.”
Jean nodded. The explanation apparently satisfied her.
“Well, come on. Let’s start breakfast, Colin. I feel simply famished. It must be the sea-air, I suppose. Isn’t it nice having breakfast out here in the open. The Dinnets seem to know just what one would like.”
Breakfast over, Jean wandered again to the balustrade and gazed out over the wave-ridged expanse. Colin gravitated to her side, filling his pipe as he went.
”Now, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, Colin. First of all, I’ve got to finish my unpacking or the things will be crushed beyond hope. Then I’ve got to interview Mrs. Dinnet about one or two things. That won’t take long. Then we can have a look at the garden till the dew dries up. And after that we’ll go and explore Ruffa till lunch-time. Perhaps we’ll Some across some of the inhabitants.”
“Suits me,” Colin approved.
“All right, then. I’ll go upstairs now. I shan’t be long, really.”
She went in through the French window of the dining-room, leaving her husband temporarily to his own devices. Colin lounged for a time in the loggia, gazing out over the empty waters below him. Suddenly, round the point came the little motor-boat belonging to Wester Voe, with Dinnet at