"To put it badly," I continued, "it amounts to this. My uncle died without making a will, and unless he was married—which doesn't seem to be the case—I come into everything that he left behind him. As far as I know at present, the 'everything' consists of about ten thousand pounds in cash and a place called Greensea Island, off the Essex coast."
There was a short pause.
"Greensea Island," she repeated slowly. "Was that where your uncle lived?"
"It was where he lived," I said, "and it was also where he died. He bought the place about six months ago, and shut himself up there with a dog and a retired prize-fighter. Mr. Drayton, the lawyer, has got hold of a notion that he was frightened of somebody or something. It does look rather like it, because from all accounts he never went to the mainland, and never allowed any visitors on the island."
Her brown eyes were fixed curiously on mine.
"Have you any idea what he was frightened about?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Not the faintest; but, from the way my father used to talk of him when I was a boy, I can quite imagine that he had all sorts of unpleasant things on his conscience."
There was another and longer pause.
"What are your plans?" she asked at length "What are you going to do?"
"I propose to carry on the family traditions," I replied. "I've chucked my job with the Planet people, and I am going to settle down on Greensea Island and see how I like it."