CHAPTER VI
A SCRAP OF PAPER
Pratt had just stripped off his clothes, and spread them to dry, whenWarrender arrived in the dinghy.
"What's the game, you chaps?" he inquired. "Why a second bath, Pratt?"
"Eyes left!" responded Pratt. "The sight of my habiliments basking inthe sunlight will inform you that I have just been performing a cinemastunt--plunging fully clothed into the boiling torrent to rescue theheroine, whom the villain----"
"Dry up!" said Armstrong.
"Just what I am trying to do. But you are bursting with information,old chap. Expound. I am all ears."
"You tied up the boat as usual, Warrender?" Armstrong asked.
"Of course. Why?"
"Pratt saw her drifting down the stream, that's all, and had to dive into prevent her getting right past the island."
"That's rum," said Warrender. "The knot couldn't have worked loose.Who's been monkeying with her?"
"That's the point," said Armstrong. "There's some one else on theisland, and whoever it is, wants the place to himself. Setting the boatadrift seemed to him a first step to driving us away, which shows he isa juggins."
"Q.E.D.," said Pratt. "Now the corollary, if you please."
"Wait a bit," Warrender interposed. "It may be only a stupid practicaljoke--the sort of thing the intelligence of that poacher fellow mightrise to."
"It may be, of course," returned Armstrong, "but I think it's more. Youremember what Miss Crawshay and the people at the inn told us about theisland being haunted, you know? Well, rumours of that sort are just whatmight be set going by some one who has reasons of his own for keepingpeople away. It may be Rush; we found a rabbit-snare this morning; butif it is, there's some one else in the game. Last night, as I wasreturning to camp, I saw a face in the thicket, just for a moment; itwas gone in a flash; but it wasn't Rush's face; it was a different typealtogether."
"Why on earth didn't you tell us?" asked Warrender.
"Well, I might have been mistaken; moonlight plays all sorts of tricks;besides----"
"Just so, old man," said Pratt. "Are there visions abroad? Thewitching hour of night----"
"Let's keep to cold fact," Warrender put in. "You saw a face, and itwasn't Rush's; but Rush lied to us about the island to keep us off it;therefore Rush and some unknown person are in league. What next?"
"Pratt saw some one in one of the rooms of the ruined cottage as weapproached it an hour or so ago. We hunted through the place, butcouldn't find any one. I noticed one strange fact: that while some ofthe rooms are thick with dust, the staircase and one of the roomsupstairs are pretty clear, although there's no sign whatever of anybodyliving there. There's not a stick of furniture. What is the cottageused for?"
"Is there anything particular about the upstairs room?" Warrender asked.
"Nothing that I could see," replied Armstrong.
"Except that it gives a magnificent view," Pratt added. "You can see myuncle's grounds, and up and down the river. It was when I was lookingout of the window that I saw the boat adrift."
"Well, I think I'll have a look at the place," said Warrender, "and ifyou'll take my advice, Percy, you'll go up in the dinghy, get into drytogs, and give an eye to the camp."
"Righto! There ought to be some one at home to receive callers. You'llbe back to lunch, I suppose?"
Warrender nodded, and strode off with Armstrong towards the ruins.Together they explored the house from roof to cellar, seeking, not foran inhabitant, but for some clue to the puzzle suggested by the partlycleared floors. No discovery rewarded them. It was not until they wereinspecting the cellar that Armstrong remembered the scrap of paper hehad picked up there. Taking it out of his pocket when they returned todaylight, he handed it to Warrender.
"Is it Greek?" he asked.
"No," replied Warrender. "I fancy it's Russian; a scrap torn from aRussian newspaper, by the look of it. Pretty old, too, judging by thecolour."
"I don't know. It's brown at the edge, but that's due to the scorchingit got when the other papers were burned. It's fairly clean everywhereelse. You can't read it, then?"
"Not a word; how should I? Russian's a modern language; belongs more toyour side than mine. Besides, what if I could? A newspaper wouldn'ttell us anything."
"Very likely not. But a Russian newspaper would hardly be in thepossession of anybody but a Russian, and what was a Russian ever doinghere?"
"Ah! I think I see daylight. What if it belonged to one of what Prattcalls his uncle's menagerie of foreigners? They might come here intheir off times. There's nothing very wonderful about it after all; butas there's nothing valuable in the ruins, they can't have any object intrying to keep us out. My belief is that that fellow Rush set the boatdrifting out of sheer mischief, and we'd better keep our eye on him."
On leaving the ruins it occurred to Armstrong to examine thesurroundings more narrowly than he had yet done. The flower-beds andthe moss-grown path in the direction of the jetty showed the impress ofhis own and Pratt's feet, but another path, which they had not trodden,also bore slight marks of use. Following it up with Warrender, he foundthat it led to a narrow track through the undergrowth, leading southwardalmost in a straight line. In single file they made their way alongthis, and came presently to a shallow indentation in the western shore,near its southern end.
"Pratt and I must have crossed this track a while ago," said Armstrong;"but I didn't notice it, and I'm sure he didn't."
"Look here," said Warrender, who had bent down to examine the grass andshrubs growing on the low bank. "Wouldn't you say that a boat had beenrun in? In fact, it's been drawn up on to the bank. Here's a distinctmark of the keel--a small rowing-boat, I should think."
"Not very recent, is it?"
"But certainly not very ancient, or it wouldn't be so distinct. It's onCrawshay's arm of the river, though. D'you know, Armstrong, I shouldn'tbe surprised if it turns out we're a set of jackasses. I dare say theplace teems with rabbits, and there are plenty of fellows besides Rushwho'd be glad of getting their dinner for nothing, and would want tokeep other people out of their preserves. Let's be getting back."
On arriving at their encampment they took the precaution of drawing thebow of the motorboat well on to the bank, and securing it firmly to astout sapling. The dinghy, which Pratt had tied to a projecting root,they carried ashore, and placed behind the tent.
Pratt was sitting on his chair, tuning his banjo.
"You perceive I have not been idle," he said. "You couldn't have carriedthe dinghy with such agile ease if I hadn't emptied her first. Yourmarketing was a success, Warrender?"
"Yes, I got everything we wanted except petrol. By the way, Pratt,there's a rival troubadour in the village."
"I say! Surely not a banjo?"
"A banjo it is, and the player is no other than that general dealerfellow--what's his name? Blevins. I went up to the shop to get a can ofpetrol, and heard the tum-ti-tum and a tenor voice as good as yourown----"
"Don't crush me quite!"
"Warbling one of your own songs out of the open window above theshop--'Love me and the world is mine.' Really it might have been you,only the fellow has a little more of what you call the tremolo, don'tyou?"
"Vibrato--if you want to know. But hang it! The glory is departed.Another banjo, another tenor--and singing my songs! Pity we're not inSpain."
"Why on earth?" asked Armstrong.
"Because then we'd meet on some delicious moonlit night under the windowof some fair senorita, and after trying to sing each other down like acouple of cats, we'd have a bit of a turn-up, and I'd have a chance toshow I'm the better man. But how do you know it was the general dealer?It might have been some fair swain as comely as myself."
"I'll tell you. I went into the shop, and asked the sheepish youngfellow there for one of the cans of petrol I saw against the wall. Hedeclared they were all for Mr. Pr
att at the Red House. There were atleast half a dozen, and I protested that Mr. Pratt couldn't possiblywant them all at once, and insisted on his fetching his employer. Thesinging had been going on all the time. It stopped a couple of secondsafter the fellow had gone into the house, and the man Blevins came intothe shop. It's a fair deduction that he and the singer were one."
"It is, it is," murmured Pratt, mournfully, throwing a glance across theriver.
"What _are_ you squinting at?" asked Armstrong. "I've noticed youseveral times; what's there to look at?"
"There's me," replied Pratt, quickly. "Look at me, old chap, or at anyrate, don't look that way; tell you why presently. Well, what about oldBlevins, Warrender? My hat! what a name for a light tenor!"
"I asked him for one can to go on with. He was very polite--oily, infact;--regretted extremely that he couldn't oblige me; the whole supplyhad been ordered for Mr. Pratt, and he daren't offend so good acustomer."
"But I thought my uncle was away from home."
"Of course. Why didn't I remember that? Anyhow, while he was talking,in came that little foreign chauffeur we saw yesterday--an Italian, Ifancy: he talked just like those Italian waiters at Gatti's. He hadcome to order a car; said that Mr. Pratt's car had broken down, and hehad had to tow it to Dartmouth for repairs. He'd keep Blevins's caruntil the repairs were done. Blevins was a bit offhand with me afterthat. I suppose it was the regular tradesman's attitude to a lessimportant customer. Anyhow, he told me rather bluntly that I couldn'thave any petrol till to-morrow, and I came away."
"Quite right. You couldn't argue with a fellow who sucks up to myuncle, and sings my songs. I say, I think I shall go in for diplomacy.Don't you think I'd make a first-class attache, or whatever they call'em?"
Astonished at the sudden change of subject, they looked at him. Hewinked.
"You know," he went on--"one of those fellows in foreign capitals whosejob it is to see and hear everything, and look innocent, while insidethey're as wily as the cunningest old serpent. Your chronicle ofBlevins is very small beer, Warrender; and while you've been yarning onabout your old petrol, I've been corking myself up with something vastlymore interesting, and you hadn't the least notion of it. That's why I'msure I'd make no end of a hit in the diplomatic corps. Just keep youreyes fixed on my goodly countenance, will you? and I'll enlighten yourunderstanding."
He took up his banjo, which he had laid across his knees, struck a noteor two, then proceeded--
"After I'd changed, and carried up your purchases, I sat me down tobeguile the tedium of waiting for you with my unfailing resource.Happening to glance across the river, I caught sight of some onewatching me from the thick of a shrub, and my lively imaginationconjured up the goose-flesh sensations of old Armstrong last night.With that presence of mind which will serve me well in my climb up thediplomatic ladder to a peerage, I hummed a stave of 'Somewhere a voiceis calling,' and turned my head away with the grace of a peacefullybrowsing gazelle; but the fellow's been watching me for the lasthalf-hour, and I bet he doesn't know he's been spotted. Armstrong,you've got the best eyes. While I go on gassing, just look round as ifyou were jolly well bored stiff--no, I've a better idea; go into thetent, and take a squint through that small tear on the side facing theriver, and fix your eyes on the shrub--I fancy it's a lilac past itsprime--that fills the space between two beeches in the background. Idon't flatter myself that the fellow was attracted by my dulcet strains,and if he's watching me, you may be sure he's watching all of us."
Armstrong got up, thrust his hands into his trousers pockets, andstrolled nonchalantly into the tent. In a couple of minutes he returnedin the same unconcerned way.
"You're right," he said, drawing up his chair beside Pratt's. "I saw aslight movement among the leaves, and a face. I'm not quite sure, but Ibelieve it's that poacher fellow. It's certainly not the face I sawlast night."
"Well, now, what interest do you suppose Siren Rush takes in us? Andwhat's he doing in my uncle's grounds? D'you think my uncle's a bitpotty, and sets Rush to keep watch like a warder on a tower? Is heafraid of some one squatting on his land in his absence? I don'tsuppose we're far wrong in accusing Rush of setting the boat adrift, butwhat's his motive in watching us? It's not mere curiosity; but if notcuriosity, what is it?"
"We must wait and see," said Warrender.
"That's very prudent, but it promises poor sport," Pratt rejoined. "Bythe way, I suppose you didn't find anything fresh in the ruins?"
"Nothing. But Armstrong picked up a scrap of paper in the cellar thismorning--a bit of a Russian newspaper. Hand it over, Armstrong."
"No," said Pratt, quickly. "Don't show it. I don't suppose Siren Rushcan read Russian any more than I can; the paper can't be his, but he'dbetter not see us examining anything. Where did you find it,Armstrong?"
"In the cellar, by a heap of paper ash."
"Incriminating documents, as they say in the police courts. But whyRussian? Look here, I know a man in London who reads Russian; he seemsto like it. Give me the paper presently. We'll go into the village thisafternoon and post it to him. I can't see how it will throw any lighton things here, but we can at least get it translated. And now, let'shave lunch."
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