Chapter VIII
THE MAN WITH THE NERVOUS AFFLICTION
Bill came to the surface a few yards from the motor boat. Three or four quick strokes brought him to the side, where with the help of an extended hand, he clambered aboard to face the stranger.
Getting back his wind, Bill took stock of the man. His first impression had been of his slight build, but on closer scrutiny Bill saw that he was well-knit, with very broad shoulders. He had a rather sallow, clean-shaven face, with unexpectedly large and very bright dark eyes. These eyes never left Bill for a second as he opened the throttle and sent the boat skimming round the end of the island.
“That was a very nice dive,” the man spoke abruptly, with a quick nod as if to emphasize the point. “Fond of swimming, aren’t you? Though not as keen on it as you were this morning, eh?” He grinned at what he considered a good joke and nodded his head emphatically.
Bill began to realize that this continual nodding must be a form of nervousness and that probably the man himself was unconscious of it.
“Thanks for the lift, Mr.—er—Sanders?” he said.
“That’s right—Sanders is the name,” the man at the wheel jerked out. “The young lady recognized me, it seems. Needn’t have been so dramatic about it, though. I kind of guessed you’d have enough of Pig Island by this time.”
“What made you think so?”
“Well,” Mr. Sanders nodded, “there’s no reason to keep the thing a secret. I moseyed over to the island a few hours ago. Tied up down t’other end from the houses. Happened to overhear Deborah talking to old Jim. Caught on to the fact they’d taken you for Slim Johnson, and that they meant to keep you with them a while.”
“And they didn’t know you were spying?” The more Bill saw of his smiling, nodding rescuer, the less he liked him.