"Only what I passed on to Mr. Drayton," he replied. "It didn't amount to much, as he's probably told you."
"It certainly left one or two things to be explained," assented the lawyer. "Greensea Island, for instance. I was just saying that Mr. Jannaway's sudden resolve to imitate Robinson Crusoe was one of the most extraordinary puzzles I've ever come across."
The Inspector pulled his chair closer to the table.
"I may be wrong," he said quietly, "but it's my belief that he was frightened—frightened stiff, if you ask me."
I felt a sudden tingle of excitement in my heart, but I don't think I showed any outward sign of it.
"Why do you think that?" I asked as coolly as possible. "What on earth could he have to be frightened of?"
The Inspector made a slight gesture with his hands. "That I can't tell you, sir. I only know that when a man suddenly shuts himself up on an island, and won't allow a living soul to land there without his permission, he generally has some pretty good reason at the back of it."
"Perhaps, after all, it was only a family weakness for solitude," struck in Mr. Drayton. "Dryden here intends to do the same thing as soon as he can arrange it."
"Well, hardly that," I said, forcing a laugh. "I mean to go and live there certainly, but there won't be any man-traps on my territory."
As I spoke the waiter came up with the cocktails, and in the short but agreeable pause that followed I rapidly made up my mind that it would be better for the moment not to press my enquiries about my uncle any farther. It would be difficult to do so without relating the story of my meeting with Miss de Roda, and that was a step which I had no intention of taking. If she were really mixed up with some sinister mystery concerning the dead man, I would at least take care that her name should not be dragged into the matter as long as I was able to prevent it.