Tom Tiddler's Island, стр. 5

“Come here, Colin. Just look at these roses on the pergolas, and those masses of flowers. And all these mysterious little paths leading away into the background. It’s like the Alice-Through-the-Looking-glass garden: you never know what you’re coming to next. I’d love to have a walk round it. Have we time now, Colin? Think not? Well, after dinner, then. It’ll be light enough to see something of it, even in the dusk.”

Then the vista of clean-mown lawns prompted another question.

“Who keeps all this in order?”

“There are four gardeners, ma’am,” Mrs. Dinnet explained. “It keeps them very busy most of the year, for there is a large kitchen-garden as well, round towards the right, out of sight behind that high hedge.”

“Where do the gardeners live?” Colin inquired, remembering that they had not been included in Dinnet’s catalogue of the inhabitants of Ruffa.

“They live in Stornadale, sir. Dinnet brings them over in the boat in the morning, and takes them back after their work is done. Mr. Craigmore prefers it that way. He does not want too many people settled on the island; and of course they all have families.”

She ushered them next into the lounge, with its huge windows overlooking the gardens. But the big saddle-bag chairs and cane glass-topped tables failed to interest Jean, who began to feel that they were running time very close for the dinner-hour.

“The gun-room is beyond, there,” Mrs. Dinnet explained, pointing to its door. “But that would not interest you, ma’am. Mr. Craigmore left word, sir, that you were to take your choice of the rods and guns, if you wished. He has stocked a small loch with trout, and there is a punt on it, if you would like to fish. And of course there is some sea-fishing as well, but it is mostly lythe. There are hares on the island, and Mr. Craigmore likes them kept down, if you would care to take out a gun, sir. And there are some duck, too, if you are a duck-shooter. Dinnet can tell you all about these matters. The billiard-room is over there,” she added, without entering it.

She led the way back to the hall, where Colin’s eye was caught by two ancient cannon-balls placed on stands.

“These from the Armada wreck?” he inquired. “Yes, sir. They say she was one of the treasure-ships; but the divers didn’t find the gold. Mr. Craigmore kept these as curiosities.” Colin’s attention was attracted by a glass-fronted case in which several bundles of large rockets were stacked.

“You’re looking at the rockets, sir?” Mrs. Dinnet went on. “Mr. Craigmore was afraid that in the winter Dinnet and I might get into difficulties, possibly, and need help from the mainland. If the worst came to the worst, we could use the rockets to attract the attention of the people at Stornadale. We’ve never had to use them; but they give us confidence. It’s very awkward being cut off from the mainland when the sea’s too rough for the motor-boat; and it’s nice to know we can get help from farther along the coast if we need it, even though there’s no boat in Stornadale itself.”

“Sound idea,” Colin agreed. “I’d just been wondering what would happen if one of you fell seriously ill when you’re alone on the island.” Mrs. Dinnet, with a faintly mysterious air, led him to a particular place in the panelling of the hall close to the rocket-case.

“You don’t see anything funny about that part of the wall, sir? There’s an old secret passage comes out there.”

“Where does it lead to?” Jean demanded, all eagerness.

“It doesn’t lead anywhere now, ma’am,” was the disappointing reply. “Mr. Craigmore had the far end of it bricked up a while ago. He didn’t like the idea of it being open, I think. If you’ll come here, sir, and press down that bit of the carving, and then push sideways on this part, you’ll find the door opens.”

Colin did as he was bid; and, as part of the panelling slid aside, he found himself looking into a dark recess in which a flight of ancient stone steps vanished downward in the gloom.

“Ugh! I don’t think I quite like the look of it,” Jean ejaculated as she looked over her husband’s shoulder. “It’s probably full of spiders and earwigs and things. Shut the door, Colin.”

Colin examined the interior fastening thoughtfully for a moment, and then obeyed.

“You’ve been down it, I suppose?” he asked Mrs. Dinnet.

“I, sir? No. I don’t like the look of it, sir. And Dinnet hasn’t been down there either. It’s part of the old house—Mr. Craigmore rebuilt most of Wester Voe to suit himself a while ago. Dinnet often wanted to go down there and take a look round, but I was afraid the roof might be dangerous, it being so old, and I made him promise he wouldn’t go exploring. They say the place was used after the ’45 to hide the Chief until he could get away over to France. But likely that’s just the clash of the countryside, sir, and with nothing in it at all.”

It was quite evident that although she approved of the secret passage as a means of impressing visitors, she had a strong distaste for the thing in itself.

“If you will come upstairs, ma’am, I’ll show you the bedrooms. I’ve prepared the east room. It gets the morning sun. And the south room, next it. But if you would rather have one of the others instead, ma’am, you’ve only to say so. It’s no trouble to change, ma’am, none whatever.”

Jean followed her upstairs, leaving Colin examining the entry to the secret passage, which seemed to have fascinated him. In a few minutes Mrs. Dinnet came down again, and Jean, from the top of the staircase, summoned her husband.

“This is our room, Colin,” she explained. “It faces east. You can have the south-facing one, just next door, over the front part of the dining-room, for your dressing-room. Dinner