"Floating stage? No. What is a floating stage?"
"Two long pieces of timber with planks across. Don't you see it at the tail of Boland's Ait?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, that's the way he got over. That was drawn by a chain across the canal to the tow-path. He got on it and then drew it back to the Ait, do you see? So you've won your money, guv'nor."
Crawford's face grew darker and darker, as the explanation proceeded. He handed Jim the promised coin in silence, turned back upon the way he had come, and began retracing his steps at a quick rate. His eyes winked rapidly, and he muttered curses as he walked.
"Can it be--can it possibly be that Philip Ray is my next-door neighbour? Incredible! And yet that was Philip Ray, as sure as I am alive, and he went to this island! Can this Robinson Crusoe be Philip Ray? If so, I cannot keep on here. I must find some other place for my--business. This is not exactly Camberwell, and I heard Ray lives in Camberwell; but this is very near it--very near Camberwell!"
When he reached Crawford Street he diminished his speed. It was plain he did not want to seem in a hurry. As soon as he gained the house he ascended the stairs at once to his own room. He closed the door, and began walking up and down, hastily muttering unconnected words. After a while he went to the window and looked out on Boland's Ait with an expression in which hatred and fear were blended.
The buildings on the island consisted of an old sawmill, from which the machinery had been removed, now falling into ruin; a couple of dilapidated sheds, with tarred wooden roofs; a yard in which once the timber had been piled in stacks higher than the engine-house itself; and a small four-roomed house, formerly used as the dwelling-place of the foreman. These buildings and the wall of the yard rose between Crawford and the tow-path. The island itself was on a level with the ground on which Crawford's House stood; and William Crawford's sitting-room, being on the first floor, did not overpeer even the wall of the yard: hence the view of the tow-path was cut off except at the head and the tail of Boland's Ait.
William Crawford bit his under lip and gnawed the knuckle of his left forefinger, and plucked at his shaven cheek and upper lip as though at whiskers and moustache. At last he dropped his hand, and remained motionless, as though an idea had struck him and he was considering it. Suddenly he raised his head like one who has made up his mind, and walked with a quick step to the door, and, opening it, went out on the landing. He leaned over the balustrade and called out:
"Mrs. Grainger, will you come up, please? I want to speak to you for a minute."