"We reckon he must have run into the jetty in the fog last night, and upset his boat. As like as not he stunned himself at the same time; anyhow, he was found lying on the mud this morning with a gash in his head that you could shove a couple of fingers into."
"We got the dinghy all right," put in the landlord. "It was floatin' about the estuary bottom upwards."
I caught Bobby's eyes fixed upon my face, and I knew that the same thought was in both our minds.
"This is pretty bad news, Sergeant," I said. "What do you think I ought to do?"
The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, sir, I take it the first thing's for you to come ashore with us and identify the body. There'll have to be an inquest, of course, but seein' as the Coroner's away at Ipswich I don't suppose it will be until the day after to-morrow." He paused. "Per'aps you know where the poor fellow belonged, mister? If so we shall have to write and tell his relatives."
I shook my head. "I haven't the slightest notion," I said. "He had been with my uncle for some time, and I re-engaged him on the lawyer's recommendation. He wasn't the sort of man to talk about his own affairs."
"That's a fact," added the landlord emphatically. "If ever there was a bloke who kept his mouth shut——"
"It ain't of no real consequence," interrupted the Sergeant with some dignity. "The police can always find out what they want sooner or later." He turned to me. "If it's convenient to you, mister, I reckon we'd better get across at once. The doctor's examinin' the corpse, and mebbe 'e'd like to have a talk with you."
"The doctor?" I repeated. "What doctor?"
"Doctor 'Ayward of Torrington," was the answer. "He came over in the car with me as soon as we got the message."