"Another of 'em," replied Thorogood.
"'Nother of what?"
"Cecily's hopeless attachments. He's a pal of Uncle Bill's, and as rich as Croesus. Amateur deep sea yachtsman before the war. He's awfully gone on Cecily."
"'Counts for him hanging round your neck, I s'pose," commented the student of human nature. "Sort of 'dweller-near-the-rose' business. Heave that suit-case over—unless you can find any more of your cousin's admirers sculling about the country. P'raps they'll load this truck for us and shove it to the boat. Ah, here's Podgie!"
A moment later the King's Messenger joined the group.
"Will you all come and have supper with me at the hotel?" he said.
"It's the last meal you'll get on terra firma for some time to come.
I've got a car waiting outside."
Mouldy Jakes heaved the last of the bags on to the hand-cart and enlisted the services of a superannuated porter drifting past in the darkness. The King's Messenger had slipped his arm inside Thorogood's, and the two moved on towards the barrier.
"Has your wife got a young brother?" asked Mouldy Jakes abruptly as he and the India-rubber Man followed in the wake of the porter and the barrow.
"Yes," replied Standish. "A lad called Joe—cadet at Dartmouth."
"Did you ever ask him to dinner—before you were engaged, I mean?" pursued the inquisitor.