A Rogue by Compulsion: An Affair of the Secret ServiceBridges, Victor
General
A Rogue by Compulsion: An Affair of the Secret Service
Bridges, Victor
Secret service -- Fiction; Spy stories
For hour after hour I worked on, sorting out my various chemicals, and
preparing such methods of treatment as were necessary in each case. I
was so interested in my task that I paid no attention at all to the
time, until with something of a shock I suddenly realized that the
light was beginning to fail. Looking at my watch I found that it was
nearly half-past seven.
There was still a certain amount to do before I could knock off, so,
stopping for a moment to mix myself a well-earned whisky-and-water, I
switched on the two electric head-lights which McMurtrie had provided
as a means of illumination. With the aid of these I continued my
labours for perhaps another hour and a half, at the end of which
time I began to feel that a little rest and refreshment would be an
agreeable variation in the programme.
After making sure that everything was safe, I turned out the lights,
and locking up the door, walked back to the hut. I was just entering,
when it suddenly struck me that instead of dining in solitary state
off tongue and bread, I might just as well stroll over to the _Betty_
and take my evening repast in the engaging company of Mr. Gow.
No sooner had this excellent idea entered my head than I decided to
put it into practice. The moon was out, and there appeared to be
enough light to see my way by the old route along the river shore,
so, walking down to the sea-wall, I climbed over, and set off in the
direction of the creek.
It was tricky sort of work, with fine possibilities of spraining
one's ankle about it, but by dint of "going delicately," like Agag, I
managed to reach the end of my journey without disaster. As I rounded
the bend I saw the _Betty_ lying out in mid-stream, bathed in a most
becoming flood of moonlight. A closer observation showed me the head
and shoulders of Mr. Gow protruding from the fo'c's'le hatch.
He responded to my hail by scrambling up on deck and lowering himself
into the dinghy, which with a few vigorous jerks he brought to the
shore.
"I've come to have supper with you, Mr. Gow," I observed. "Have you
got anything to eat?"
He touched his cap and nodded. "I says to meself it must be you, sir,
d'rectly I heard you comin' round the crick. There ain't much comp'ny
'bout here at night-time."
"Nor in the daytime either," I added, pushing the boat off from the
bank.
"And that's a fact, sir," he remarked, settling down to the oars.
"There was one gent round here this morning askin' his way, but except
for him we bin remarkable quiet."
"What sort of a gent?" I demanded with interest.
"Smallish, 'e was, sir, an' very civil spoken. Wanted to get to
Tilbury."
"Did he ask who the boat belonged to, by any chance?"
Mr. Gow reflected for a moment. "Now you come to mention it, sir, I
b'lieve 'e did. Not as I should have told 'im anything, even if I'd
known. I don't hold with answerin' questions."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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