"Well, you can tell her it will be all right," I said, thrusting the letter into my pocket. "I suppose you haven't heard whether Mr. de Roda is back at the house—the young lady's uncle, you know?"
Jimmy nodded. "'E's there all right. 'E come up in a motor-boat about mid-day. She's lying out in the tideway round the point."
"How do you know it was Mr. de Roda?" I asked.
"Why, George Ellis, the boatman, seed 'im and Craill rowin' ashore. I 'eard George tellin' my dad. She's a fine boat, too, guv'nor—the old Seagull, wot used to belong to Captain Stainer of 'Arwich. George reckons 'e must 'ave bought 'er while 'e was away."
"Big enough to go to sea in?" I asked.
He nodded his head. "That's a fact," he answered in the usual Essex idiom. "The Capt'n run across to France in 'er once, and George says she done the trip in a reg'lar treat."
I pulled out my pocket-book and extracted a ten shilling note.
"Here you are, Jimmy," I said, "you cut back and give the old lady my message. Just say that I've received the letter, and that I'll do exactly what Miss de Roda wishes."
I conducted him to the door, stammering his thanks, and assuring me that my errand should be faithfully discharged, and having watched him hurry across the lawn and disappear into the shrubbery, I once more turned the key and shot home the bolts.
I felt that if ever I had cast my bread successfully upon the waters, it was in picking out Jimmy as a trustworthy confederate. Except for him, Christine would have had no chance of sending her letter across to the island, while the news he had brought with regard to de Roda was perhaps of even greater significance than anything she had dared to write.