"Well I'm damned!" he exclaimed, turning to me. "If that wasn't our friend de Roda it must have been his twin brother!"
CHAPTER SIX
I helped myself to a glass of port, and, sitting back in my big arm-chair, looked contentedly round the dining-room. It was the third evening I had spent in my new quarters, and the refreshing air of novelty had not yet quite worn off.
So far things had been moving with admirable smoothness. I had come down on the Thursday following my first visit, and I had been happily surprised at the improvements which Bascomb had effected in the interval. He must have worked hard, for the house was as neat and clean as anyone could reasonably wish, and in addition to that he had cut the grass and tidied up the garden, both in the back and the front.
In his own queer way, too, he had seemed quite pleased at my arrival, a welcome seconded by Satan, who had evidently adopted me as a new and desirable feature of the establishment. I had put In a couple of pleasantly lazy days, rambling about the place, exploring it from top to bottom, and now on this Sunday evening I found myself sitting over the remains of supper with something of the same "monarch-of-all-I-survey" feeling which helped to brighten the solitude of Robinson Crusoe.
Like that undefeated castaway, however, I had other and more pressing considerations to occupy my immediate thoughts. Whatever way I might look at it, the fact remained that I had undoubtedly burned my boats. Here I was, stuck down alone on Greensea Island, in precisely the friendless and solitary position which Christine had counselled me to avoid. Against her advice I had thrust my head deliberately into the lion's mouth, and for any painful consequences that might follow I should have only myself to thank.
If any further proof were needed as to the soundness of her warning I had it supplied to me in a sufficiently dramatic shape by that momentary encounter with de Roda at the top of Pen Mill Hill. That it was de Roda we had so nearly run into I was in no manner of doubt. However much I might have mistrusted my own eyes, Ross's immediate recognition of him had settled the matter beyond question. I could see him now as he had whirled past us in a cloud of dust—a huddled mass of coat collar, with a sallow face and sombre eyes staring out fixedly into space. It was my impression that he had not even glanced at either of us, but the whole thing had happened so abruptly that on this point at least I might very easily have been mistaken.
Anyhow, it didn't seem to make a vast deal of difference. By no conceivable stretch of imagination could I account for his presence in this out-of-the-way part of the world, unless it had something to do with my own humble affairs. Those grim words out of the Bible, "Where the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered together," seemed to hit off the situation with unfortunate accuracy. There was a strong suggestion of a sick bird of prey in de Roda's yellow face, and, though I had no intention of becoming a carcase if I could possibly avoid it, the parallel was too close to be anything but distinctly unpleasant.
The one point in my favour was the fact that, if trouble were coming, I was at least fully prepared for it. After the way they had bungled things in the docks my enemies would no doubt have the sense to guess that I must be on my guard, but of the extra and private warning that I had received from Christine they were, I felt sure, happily in ignorance. If only I had had the least inkling of what it was all about I don't think I should have worried in the slightest. It was this fighting in the dark that was so upsetting—this horrible ignorance as to where the next blow might come from, and why the devil de Roda himself or anyone else should be so anxious to accelerate my funeral.