With a turn of his hand Bobby set us going, and, gliding rapidly down the creek, he ran out into the estuary. He made no further remark until we were three-quarters of the way over, when he glanced sideways at me from under his cap.
"What have you done to your face?" he asked. "You look as if you'd been trying to kiss somebody and it hadn't quite come off."
I patted my cheek tenderly to see if it were still bleeding.
"It was nothing as exciting as that," I said. "Only a slight affair with a blackberry bush."
He grunted disbelievingly, and, altering our course a shade more down-stream, swung the head of the boat round so that we came up nearly alongside the landing-stage. I leaned forward and caught hold of the chain.
"We get out here," I said. "This is where I live."
He switched off the engine, and with the painter in his hand stepped up on the planking. I followed, and held the boat steady while he made her fast to one of the posts.
"We seem to be doing very well so far," he observed cheerfully. "What happens next?"
"We go up to the house and have some lunch," I replied. "Then you shall hear the true and remarkable story of how Mr. John Dryden came into his inheritance."
He thrust his arm through mine. "Come along," he said with a laugh. "That'll suit me all right. I feel hungry enough to swallow anything to-day."