"No, sir," said Jarrow. "I was sent to see you. I'm from Captain Dinshaw."
"Don't know him," said Locke. "What's it about?"
"The island," said Jarrow, still cautious.
"Island! Oh, yes, the old fellow with the picture. All right, come on up."
Jarrow was soon before the door of the Lockes' suite and was ushered into a room which overlooked the bay, the windows open and the awnings down. He saw a young woman seated before a small table covered with tea things, and a tall young man standing near by. Mr. Locke stood just inside the door, but what warmed Jarrow's heart and bolstered his courage was a picture of Dinshaw's island which lay on a divan. There was the proof that the old captain had talked with these people.
Locke regarded his visitor with a puzzled air, but concealed his surprise. The stranger seemed to him to be strangely furtive and sinister, standing in the half-light, ears twitching, a clipped skull thrust forward on a short neck like the head of a turtle pushing out from a shell.
"I didn't get your name, sir," said Locke, in a friendly way, to save his guest embarrassment.
"Jarrow's my name. I got a wreckin' business. You ask anybody in Manila about me."
"And you say Dinshaw sent you?"
"Yes, sir. I take it you've had a talk with him."