"Greensea Island's a curious place for a man of his age to come and settle down in," he continued. "I have often wondered what brought him to this part of the world." "So have I," I replied truthfully. "In fact, the more I think it over, the more it puzzles me. I can only imagine he must have been inspired by some happy instinct that it would suit the tastes of his successor." At this point there was a pause in our mutual confidences, owing to the re-entrance of Bascomb with the next course. He took several minutes clearing away and providing us with fresh plates, and by the time we were again alone the conversation had wandered off into a different channel. Whatever one's personal feelings towards Manning might be, there was no getting over the fact that he was an excellent talker. He chatted away easily and pleasantly on a variety of topics, and if he had any other purpose in view beyond that of being entertaining, he certainly managed to conceal it with remarkable success. In spite of my prejudice against him, I could fully believe what Bobby had told me about his popularity in the neighbourhood. He seemed to possess an almost hypnotic power of making himself agreeable, though in my own case his choicest efforts were so much waste of labour. I had only to remind myself of a certain incident outside "The Laurels" to feel all my old inclination to punch his head welling up with renewed vigour. When the time for coffee arrived I made a suggestion that we should move into the hall. Manning had declined a cigar, saying that he preferred to stick to his Egyptian cigarettes, so, taking the whisky and liqueurs with us, we established ourselves in a couple of easy chairs in front of the big open hearth. I put a match to the fire--more for the sake of hearing it crackle than for anything else--and with every outward appearance of complete harmony we settled down to spend the evening. "You've got an ideal place in its way," said my guest, looking round with a sort of lazy approval. "The old chap must have spent a lot of money in fixing it up as comfortably as this." "I don't think he did very much," I replied. "He had some workmen here, and tidied things up generally, but I fancy the house was in pretty good condition before he took it over. This fireplace was about the only new thing he put in." Manning's gaze wandered critically over the improvement in question. "Those are Dutch tiles, aren't they?" he said, bending forward to make a closer inspection. "It's quite likely," I returned. "Bascomb tells me the work was done by a Dutch firm." I brought this out purposely in the hope of encouraging further questions, but my companion's interest in the matter did not seem to be very acute. He remained silent for several moments, staring in front of him with a curiously absent expression, as though his thoughts had suddenly taken an entirely different direction.