Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex Coast — John Shaqi
Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex CoastBridges, Victor
General
Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex Coast
Bridges, Victor
Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
"Hullo!" he observed. "Got my pipe?"
I nodded. "I have bought you a beauty," I said. "You will be a
credit to the ship."
"There's a telegram for you in your cabin," he went on; "a cable from
England, I think. It came on board just after you had gone ashore."
"A cable from England!" I repeated. "I wonder who the Dickens it's
from."
He chuckled softly. "Can't say," he replied, "unless it's a message
from King Arthur offering you a seat at the Round Table. I believe
they're getting devilish short of knights errant."
I stepped up to him and took him gently but firmly by the arm.
"I think you want a drink, Ross," I said. "You had better come along
down with me, and I'll give you a whisky and soda."
CHAPTER TWO
I led him across the deck until we reached the companion, when I
released my grip on his elbow.
"Tell me, you old scoundrel," I said, "did anyone except you and that
confounded sailor see what was going on?"
He chuckled again. "What can you expect," he enquired, "if you will
choose the public ocean on which to perform these feats of chivalry?"
"There wasn't any chivalry about it," I said. "The blighters tried
to blackmail us into giving them a couple of quid. In fact, they had
the infernal cheek to threaten to put us ashore on the sands if we
didn't pay up."
Ross smiled provokingly. "I should have thought that would have just
suited you," he observed. "You would make a very nice Paul and
Virginia."
"It wouldn't have suited Miss de Roda," I returned. "As it is, she's
worried to death with the idea that someone will go and tell her
uncle about that scrap in the boat. She thinks it will give him
another heart attack, and, seeing the sort of doctor we've got on
board, I must say I rather sympathize with her."
He took my shaft quite imperturbably.
"I thought you would get the poor girl into trouble sooner or later,"
he remarked. "Still, thanks to me, it's not as bad as it might have
been. I was the only one on board with a pair of glasses, and, when
the others asked me what was happening, I told them the gentleman you
sloshed on the jaw had managed to catch a crab. It was some crab, by
the way, wasn't it? I hate lying, but I knew that your natural
modesty would shrink from anything like a public ovation."
I stopped outside my cabin. "Ross," I said feelingly, "you may be a
bad doctor, but you're a damned good pal. You shall have a double
whisky for this."
I led the way in and closed the door behind us.
"Besides," he continued, settling himself down on my bunk, "there's
no risk of Uncle Philip dropping dead. He has bucked up a lot the
last day or two, thanks to my extraordinary skill."
I mixed a generous peg, and brought it across to where he was sitting.
"I can't quite make out the Señor de Roda," I said. "He looks as if
he had something on his mind--something he was always brooding over."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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