Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 18
He stopped short and began to think out this new explanation; but before he had readjusted his mind in the fresh bearings, Jean began to laugh so unrestrainedly that she speedily had to control herself and wipe her eyes.
“Well, what’s the joke?” Colin demanded, with a shade of testiness. “You’ll get a fit of the hiccups if you don’t look out.”
Jean put away her handkerchief and composed herself with an effort.
“It serves you right for trying to pull my leg, Colin. Why, you poor old blind bat, anyone else could guess what brings him up here. You stood in front of her not five minutes ago.”
Colin, rather resentful at Jean’s finding a simpler explanation than his own one, seemed somewhat critical.
“H’m! Engaged, you think?”
Jean shook her head.
“Not yet, I imagine. She wasn’t wearing a ring, at any rate.”
“Proves a lot, that, considering the dearth of jewellers’ shops on Ruffa.”
“Well, they didn’t meet for the first time to-day. I could see that.”
“No, that’s so,” Colin conceded. “I follow your line. He went on like a tic-tac man at the races as soon as she hove in sight; that argues previous acquaintance. He knew just when she would turn up; that implies prearrangement and the plot thickens. Finally, she had no bathing-dress or towel over her arm and yet she was going swimming; that suggests that she knows him well enough to leave her things in his hut. Do I follow you, Watson.”
“You’re really quite a clever old dear,” Jean retorted, mockingly. “But my methods are more intricate. I just watched him. That face of his doesn’t give much away, but it gave away that thing as plain as print. And, what’s more, I’ll bet you a pair of gloves—six and elevenpenny ones barred—that he hasn’t asked her yet.”
“Well, why doesn’t he?” demanded the mystified Colin. “She’s a dashed pretty girl, and he wouldn’t have much difficulty in finding a quiet corner on this island where he could get to grips with the question without interruption. I didn’t spend much time in backing and filling in my day, I know.”
“It puzzles me,” Jean confessed. “But there it is. I’m sure I’m right.”
“Well, but——” said Colin doubtfully. “What’s happening to his practice all this time? He’s been here for weeks. Seems to have settled down on a long lease. Dash it, Jean. I believe there’s something in my notion, after all, whether you’re right or wrong about the girl. It would——”
He broke off abruptly to avoid betraying the first secret he had kept from his wife. A valuable mineral deposit on Ruffa? Then what about this gold brick in his pocket at that very moment? Colin had a considerable store of information, most of it disjointed and useless for any practical purpose; but now from that dump of casually-acquired knowledge he dug up something else which seemed to fit in. Gold had been found in the North before this. Deposits had been discovered in the Leadhills district and at Glencoich in Perthshire. It wasn’t in paying quantities in either case; but at any rate it was there. And there might well be a richer vein on Ruffa.
But this merely opened up a further field of speculation to Colin. Suppose somebody had found gold in paying quantities on the island. What was the need for all this mystery-mongering—unless Jean was right and Northfleet’s presence on Ruffa was a purely private affair? Then there drifted up out of Colin’s memory two words: “Mine Royal.” He had a vague idea that the Crown could step in somehow in the case of gold or silver deposits. But, try as Tie would, he could recollect no more than the two words. They refused to link themselves up with any useful and definite information. Mine Royal! If the Excise people came into the matter, then Colin could see a very sound reason why an unscrupulous prospector should keep his finds dark.
Jean broke into his preoccupation.
“There’s one thing I don’t understand, Colin. If he’s an old friend of that girl, why doesn’t he go to Heather Lodge? They could have put him up there comfortably, instead of letting him pig it in that awful little shieling.”
Colin waked up suddenly from his fruitless speculations.
“Because he isn’t an old friend of the family. You heard him say he hadn’t met old Arrow. Knew him by sight, that was all.”
“Well, I’m right about one thing, anyhow,” said Jean, obstinately. “And I hope it comes off, too. They’re both nice.”
“Burning to have a finger in the pie, eh? You miserable little matchmaker!”
” Well, I like being married myself. Did you look at that girl, Colin? What’s her name? Hazel, isn’t it? Well, she’s got that extra inch or two of height that I’ve always wished I had myself. And she sunburns to that sort of golden tan that shows a flush through it. I burn Hindoo-colour myself, worse luck.”
“Fishing for compliments? Sorry. Out of stock. Used ’em all up when I was engaged.” Jean paid no attention to him.
“Do you know, Colin,” she went on. “I don’t care much for her uncle, from what we’ve’ ” heard about him. He sounds like an old pig, if you ask me. Look at the way he’s brought that girl away up here, and left her to amuse herself as best she can. She must have had a miserably dull time of it.”
“On your adored island?”
“Alone on my adored island,” Jean corrected. “I don’t know whether I’d like Ruff a so much if you weren’t here—even if that makes you conceited. Anyhow, I’m going to be nice to her.”
“Meaning you’re going to hang round her neck and leave me in the lurch?” protested Colin, indignantly. “Thank you!”
“No, of course not.