We stared at it in amazement.
"Well, that's funny," I said. "How did it get there? There must be someone on the island."
"Oh, no," said Tommy. "Why, I had a card from old stick-in-the-mud only yesterday saying that it was all clear. There's probably another boat of some kind in the shed."
He took the key out of his pocket, and thrusting it into the lock, flung open the door. The place was as empty as a barn.
Mortimer laughed.
"Your aged friend seems to be a bit of a humorist, Tommy."
"There must be someone there," I said. "Most likely it's the gardener. Let's go outside and give him a hail."
We stepped out on to the bank, where Tommy let off a vigorous yell, while I played an impressive voluntary on the horn.
"That ought to bring him out of his shell," observed Mortimer with approval.
As a matter of fact, it did nothing of the kind. The island remained as blissfully untroubled as the garden of Proserpine.