My eyes travelled through the open window towards the low-lying shore and the straggling clump of trees opposite. A more peaceful scene it would have been difficult to imagine, but its outward calm did nothing to allay the ever-growing sense of danger which haunted me like a persistent shadow.
I turned back to Ross, however, with a well-assumed air of indifference.
"I expected to find that Uncle Richard had queered the pitch. I shall have to begin at the bottom and endear myself to the neighborhood gradually."
"Well, you've started the right way by bringing me along," he retorted. "It will at least show 'em that you have got some respectable friends."
I beckoned to the landlord, who was again disengaged.
"Is there a boat of any sort you could let us have?" I asked. "We want to go across to the island."
Whatever may have been the drift of his private thoughts, he was evidently prepared to be civil and obliging.
"Why, certainly, sir," he said. "There's one down alongside the jetty." He walked to the window and thrust his head out. "Jim," he shouted, "just get that boat ready. There's a couple o' gents comin' along in a minute."
I settled up for the drinks, and we made our way out of the room and down the rickety flight of steps.
We found Jim, a shock-headed youth of about eleven, unhitching the painter of a small weather-beaten dinghy.