Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 14

“Bringing the gardeners over, likely,” Colin surmised.

As the tiny vessel swung round to enter the channel, he descended from the loggia and walked down towards the landing-place. He watched the boat come alongside. The four men got out and came up the path, greeting him with rough courtesy as they passed. Dinnet had remained behind to moor the boat, and Colin reached the pier as this was finished. Dinnet wished him good morning with his habitual quiet politeness. Colin acknowledged the salutation and made this the opening for an aimless talk on the weather prospects.

“By the way,” he edged in, as if by an afterthought. “What’s Mr. Arrow like? To look at, I mean. I may come across him on the island. Save bother if I know him when I meet him.”

“That would be convenient, as you say, sir,” Dinnet paraphrased in concurrence.

He paused for a moment or two, as though trying to crystallise his recollections.

“Mr. Arrow, sir,” he went on, “iss rather striking-looking. He iss tall, and rather thin. His hair iss iron-grey, or greyer than that; but his eyebrows are quite dark, and they tilt up a little at the outer ends. You could recognise him from that alone, sir. And he has a well-marked nose, too. But most likely you will not meet him just yet, sir. He does not seem to bother much about exercise.”

“Bit of a recluse, eh?”

“You might call him that, sir. He iss some sort of scientific man, and perhaps his work keeps him indoors a lot. I do not see him very often myself.”

“H’m!” Colin’s tone did not sound enthusiastic. “And what about the three men he employs? What do they look like?”

Dinnet again pondered for a few moments before answering.

“One of them wears spectacles, sir. He does the cooking and helps Mr. Arrow with his scientific work, too. So Mrs. Dinnet gathered from a chance remark Miss Arrow made to her, once. Then there iss a big, burly man with a brown moustache. He iss some sort of a foreigner, I think. And there iss a little red-haired man with a face like a ferret and the same kind of eyes. He may be a foreigner, too, for I have not spoken to him. The big man speaks English, sir, but he cannot pronounce ‘th’ well.”

He paused for a moment and Colin had a fleeting impression from the manner that he was going to add some warning. If this were so, Dinnet evidently thought better of it, for he ended lamely:

“That iss all I can do to describe them, sir.”

“Quite clear enough,” Colin acknowledged. “By the way, Dinnet, could you give me a small sheet of paper and some twine? I want to wrap up a parcel—a thing about the size of your fist,” he added, to give Dinnet an idea of the paper required.

“Very good, sir. You shall have it at once.”

“Oh, by the way, Dinnet,” Colin added in what he hoped was an indifferent tone, “has the spectacled man a hare-lip, by any chance. You know the thing I mean?”

Dinnet seemed slightly mystified by the question.

“A hare-lip, sir? I did not notice it; and none of the others iss hare-lipped, either, I am sure.”

Colin was momentarily nonplussed. He had seen that hare-lip too clearly to be mistaken. Then he hit on an explanation which seemed to lit the case. The Dinnets, obviously, were not in close touch with Heather Lodge, and a fifth man might have joined Arrow’s establishment within the last day or two without attracting their attention. Such a person, new to the island, might easily have blundered into danger after dark.

“I will get you the paper and string for your parcel, sir,” Dinnet suggested, seeing that Colin had no further questions to ask.

Colin followed him to Wester Voe, secured the materials, and made a neat package of the gold brick, which he slipped into his pocket. Finding nothing else to do, he wandered aimlessly about the premises until Jean reappeared.

“No letters, and no newspapers, until Dinnet brings them over from Stornadale, when he takes the gardeners back in the evening,” she announced. “It makes one feel really at the Back o’ Beyond, doesn’t it? Now, I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Colin. These gardeners are working all over the place, so I think we’ll give the garden a miss this morning. First of all, we’ll make a tour of the island, and see what’s what and who’s who. That’ll take us some little time. Then, when we get back here, we’ll have a bathe off the pier. Lunch will be about half-past one, if that suits you.”

“O.K.,” Colin assured her. “What about getting your feet wet? Wait till the sun dries the dew?”

Jean glanced down at her neat brogues.

“I’d go even if it were raining cats and dogs. It may surprise you, Colin, but I’ve got more than one pair of shoes. Come along.”

As they walked to the gate, Jean decided that they had better explore the northern shore of the island first of all, since they had already seen some of the southern side from Wester Voe. With this aim, they climbed the rising ground behind the house and dropped down a steep slant on the farther side. As they descended the slope and rounded a corner, Jean caught sight of a white spot farther along the coast.

“That must be the shieling where the celebrated Mr. Northfleet resides, Colin. I believe I can see a figure moving about there. We’ll be able to drop in on him on our way round. That’ll break the ice naturally. If we waited for him to make a formal call he mightn’t come at all, being ‘reserved, rather’ as Mrs. Dinnet says.”

At the edge of the cliffs fringing the northern coast of Ruffa a belt of springy turf made easy walking. Jean seemed in no haste. She preferred to go slowly and examine each stretch as she came to it She was in