"Very good, sir," he returned, in a slightly mollified voice. "I'll be outside—along by the front door."
True to his word, we found him standing on the path when we came out, with Satan in due attendance.
"If yer don't like the dog," he said, "I can tie 'im up in the yard."
"But I do like him very much," I replied. "We are going to be the best of friends, aren't we, Satan?"
I bent over and patted the huge black head, an attention which its owner accepted with a complacent grunt that was distinctly encouraging.
It seemed to me that a momentary flicker of relief passed across Bascomb's naturally wooden features, but without any further observation he led the way round to the back, where another rusty iron gate opened out on to the marshes.
From this point the whole expanse of Greensea Island was visible to our eyes. It consisted of a long stretch of saltings and swamps, only broken by occasional creeks and pools, which sparkled here and there in the bright May sunshine. To some people, I suppose, the outlook would have appeared dismal in the extreme, but for me this kind of scenery has always possessed an extraordinary charm. I love it even in the winter time, when it lies bare and desolate under a cold sky. Now, with the thrift mantling the marshes everywhere with a garment of shot satin, its strange and lonely beauty seemed to stir the very chords of my heart.
These delicate emotions were rudely interrupted by Ross, who had been watching my face with his usual amused smile.
"You look like the stage hero coming back to his long-lost village. If there was only a golden-haired damsel in white muslin picking roses, it would make a lovely fifth act for a melodrama."
"I can get along very nicely without her," I returned. "I've had quite enough melodrama to last me for the present."