Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 31
Colin had dropped his hands at the first words of apology.
“Damned liar,” was his internal comment on the explanation. “He’s no more neurasthenic than I am. Can’t have a row before Jean, though. Least said, soonest mended.”
He put his hand on the yacht’s hull and pushed off gently.
“If you’re staying here, may I point out that your yacht’s almost blocking the fairway here?” he said in a tone which betrayed his suppressed anger clearly enough. “If you shift her twenty yards on, you’ll be in nobody’s way.”
“Oh, certainly, certainly,” the spokesman acquiesced eagerly. “We are extremely sorry to give trouble. We shall move, as soon as there is light to see. I hope that will do? And we are sorry, we are very sorry indeed, that this unfortunate little mistake has occurred. You will overlook it, as between gentlemen, hein? An awkward contretemps which we much regret, I assure you.”
“Oh, let it go at that,” Colin interrupted impatiently.
He let in his clutch, and the little motor-boat purred on past the yacht. Colin leaned over and touched Jean’s arm, to find her trembling.
“What a start they gave me,” she said with a poor attempt at a laugh. “And what extraordinary people, Colin! I really thought at first that they meant to shoot, and I was in a perfect panic about you. That’s really why I’m trembling like this. I’m all right now. It’s just the after-effects. But who can these people be, Colin? They know about the Arrows. But they don’t know the channel well, so they haven’t been here often; and they don’t know much about Ruffa or they’d have guessed who we were. That we were from Wester Voe, at any rate. That’s plain. I’m not sure I like it, Colin. I don’t like it one bit. Can you make head or tail of it?”
A dark object loomed up suddenly ahead and Colin twitched the helm to avoid it. They swept past a small rowing-boat—the Heather Lodge pleasure-craft, Colin guessed—with one man rowing and a second figure in the stem. Evidently it was making for the yacht. Jean gave a violent start as they just escaped disaster, and Colin pressed her arm reassuringly.
“Narrow shave, that” he grunted crossly. “Another time old Arrow goes visiting his friends I hope he’ll show a light. I’m getting a bit fed-up with that lot, I’ll admit.”
Shutting the throttle, he allowed the motorboat to run gently in towards the steps. As they came into the lee a man’s figure on the top of the jetty showed up in clear outline against the paleness of the sky. Colin’s nerves had not been shaken by his late experiences, but his temper had been badly frayed.
“Who’s there?” he demanded aggressively.
The figure stooped over the edge and peered at the motor-boat.
“Sh!” it said in a vehement whisper. Then in a low voice it added. “That you, Trent? I’m Northfleet. It’s all right, only I’d rather you didn’t shout my name just now. Is Mrs. Trent there? I hope I didn’t startle you.”
“Not half so much as these swine on the yacht, there,” Colin explained, disjointedly. “Stuck a pop-gun about a foot long in my face just now. Gave Jean the start of her life. Bit thick, what? Of all the nerve . . . Pretty doings, what? Some of the old Arrow’s pals, I gather. I’m going to interview that bird before many hours are over. Won’t stand this kind of going-on, not from the Grand Mogul.”
Northfleet ran down the steps and helped Jean to land. Colin followed them up the stair after making the boat fast; and the three stood at the end of the jetty looking out towards where the yacht lay in the darkness.
“Not even a riding-light showing,” Colin growled. “Gang of tinkers afloat.”
Northfleet seemed to have gathered something from Colin’s jerky explanation, but now he asked for a fuller account. When he had listened to it without comment, he turned to Jean.
“It must have given you a bad jar, Mrs. Trent. I expect you’re feeling a bit nervy—most people would, after that sort of experience. There’s one thing I ought to say, and you can take it as being just the plain truth. All this affair”—he waved his hand towards the yacht—“has nothing to do with you and Mr. Trent. You can take my word for it that you needn’t expect anything more of the sort. These fellows mistook you for somebody else. That I can guess. You mustn’t let it worry you in the slightest, please. So far as you’re concerned the whole business was a pure accident which won’t occur again. And another thing: Miss Arrow isn’t in any way mixed up in the affair. I think I ought to make that clear.”
“That’s all very well,” Colin declared bluntly, “but it leaves us much where we were. What’s all this monkeying that’s going on? What’s at the back of it all, exactly?”
“I wish I knew,” Northfleet replied, with a touch of irritation which somehow gave the effect of sincerity.
Colin considered for a moment or two. This mystery-mongering—as he regarded it—exasperated him after his recent experiences. Northfleet evidently knew something, and Colin wanted to know it too. On the other hand, he flinched from an attempt to force Northfleet’s confidence while Jean was there. Whatever lay behind those mysterious manoeuvres, it seemed advisable that he himself should get the full story from Northfleet and then supply Jean with a suitably expurgated version, something which would hold water and yet not alarm her further. After the shock she had she might very well insist on leaving Ruffa at a moment’s notice; and, for many reasons, Colin had no wish for that. The first essential was to discover if possible how the land actually lay