The last consideration, indeed, was much the most disturbing factor as far as I was concerned. I was in no mood to worry about my own safety when it was more than possible that, owing to her efforts to help me, Christine might be exposing herself to all sorts of horrible risks. People who don't hesitate to attempt murder are apt to take a particularly unpleasant view of anything which they regard as treachery. Of course de Roda was her uncle, but he looked the kind of fanatic who would attach precious little importance to family affection if it began to interfere with the success of his schemes. Besides, according to the letter, de Roda was away. In his absence Manning was presumably in charge of operations, and the mere thought of Christine finding herself in the power of that gentleman was sufficient to send a chill down the small of my back.
Suppose he had discovered that she was in communication with me! It was unlikely, but unlikely things do happen in this world, and, in spite of all our precautions, the secret might have leaked out. In view of what I had seen outside "The Laurels" my feelings can be easily understood, for he was just the sort of devil to make use of a chance like this without compunction and without mercy.
I crumpled the letter in my hand, and thrust it into my pocket. Whatever had induced Christine to visit the barge, the idea of her shut up in that lonely cabin with no one else but Manning on board was utterly unbearable. A frantic longing to do something rose up inside me, and, walking to the window, I stared out into the drifting mist.
I had stood there for perhaps thirty seconds when a really inspired notion suddenly dawned on me. In a fog like this nothing would be visible on the water more than a few yards away. If I were careful about it there was no earthly reason why I should not get into my boat and row up as far as the barge in perfect security. No matter how sharp a look-out was kept, I should be practically alongside before anyone could give the alarm.
Almost as soon as the idea came into my head I had made up my mind. So strongly, indeed, did it attract me that I did not even stop to consider what I should do when I reached my destination. I could think about that while I was in the boat. The main thing was to get started without wasting any more valuable time.
In spite of my eagerness to be off, I first of all sat down at my desk and scribbled a note to Bobby. It had to be posted at Pen Mill before six o'clock or else it would not be delivered in Harwich until mid-day, and in that case he would very probably be out of the office. I made no attempt to explain things, however; I merely told him that I was in need of his help, and that if he could manage to get down to Greensea the next day I should be uncommonly glad to see him.
I was just fastening up the envelope when I saw Bascomb go past the window. I called out to him from where I was sitting, and he stepped in through the open doorway. He was carrying a heavy garden spade.
"Where are you going to dig the grave?" I asked him.
He jerked his head toward the back of the house. "'Longside o' the shed," he answered. "I can see it there from the kitchen window."
He spoke as though the prospect of being continually reminded of the crime afforded him a kind of sullen satisfaction.