"I thought that was coming," he said drily. "Yes, I know several things about him, and one is that according to your own account he's mighty anxious to get hold of Greensea Island."
"I told you his yarn," I interrupted. "He says he wants to start a yachting club."
"Funny he hasn't mentioned it to anyone down here. I suppose he was afraid somebody would pinch the idea."
"Who is he?" I asked. "Where does he come from?"
Bobby struck a match, and with some care lighted his cigar.
"He is one of those mysterious gents that nobody seems to know anything about. According to what I've heard, he rolled up here last summer and bought The Penguin, an old barge that used to belong to a fellow called Collinson. He gave out that he wanted to go in for wild fowling, and, to do the blighter justice, he certainly is a first-class hand with a gun."
"It sounds to me as if you didn't like him," I said.
"I can't stick him at any price. All the same, he's very well in with the people down here. Quite a leading light among the sporting crowd. He belongs to the club at Shalston, and he's always ready to take a hand in anything that's going on."
"What's your objection to him?" I asked.
"Nothing much. I just think he's a wrong 'un."