"Just what you wanted," he said, steadying the dinghy with his hand. "It must be precious lonely for you, tucked away on that island all by yourself. I have been meaning to run across again and look you up, only I thought I had better give you time to settle in first."
I took the opening without hesitation.
"How about to-morrow night?" I said. "If you're not doing anything else, come along and dine."
For a moment he appeared doubtful. "I should like to very much indeed. The only trouble is that I shan't have my boat. There's been something wrong with the engine lately, and I'm taking her round to Bridwell now to get it seen to." He paused. "Still, that doesn't really matter," he continued. "I can easily walk along to the inn, and row across from there."
A bold improvement on my first idea suddenly came into my head. After all, if I hoped to be successful, it was no good playing the game in a half-hearted sort of fashion.
"Why not bring a bag and stay the night?" I suggested. "It will save you a tramp in the dark, and, as far as I'm concerned, you will be doing a charitable act."
Perhaps it was only my imagination, but it seemed to me that a faint gleam of satisfaction flickered across his face.
"You're very kind," he said, in that smooth voice of his. "There's nothing I should enjoy more if I shan't be putting you out."
"Just the contrary," I returned. "I don't know what sort of a meal you'll get, but I'll try and prod up Bascomb into doing his best." I pushed my sculls forward into position. "Dinner at half-past seven," I added, "unless any other time would suit you better."
"That will do me fine," he replied, switching on his engine. "I shall look forward to it immensely."