Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex CoastBridges, Victor
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Greensea Island: A Mystery of the Essex Coast
Bridges, Victor
Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
His blue eyes fixed themselves on mine with a cat-like malevolence.
"You might have a worse ending," he said softly. "I am not a very
safe person to quarrel with."
There was a venom in his tone which spoke volumes as to his
sincerity, but unless it was intended to frighten me the warning was
a little superfluous.
"I shan't grumble at the bill," I replied. "I am always ready to pay
well, especially when I have really enjoyed myself."
Then, turning the handle, I stepped out into the passage, and closed
the door behind me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I found Christine standing on the deck at the head of the
companion-way.
She looked terribly pale, and as I approached she started towards me
with a little sob of relief.
"Oh, thank God!" she whispered. "Thank God you're safe!"
She took my hands, and a low cry escaped her at the sight of their
scarred and bleeding knuckles.
"It's nothing, darling," I said reassuringly. "That's only a little
blood from Manning's nose. He's got plenty left to go on with."
With something between a laugh and another sob she let her head sink
forward against my shoulder. "Don't think me a coward. I--I'm not
one really. It was just having to wait here and----"
"A coward!" I interrupted. "Why, I think you're the bravest girl
that ever stepped this earth."
I put my arms round her, and for one dear moment she lay there
passive and still, like a tired, contented child.
Then, suddenly releasing herself, she gazed round in a kind of
startled panic.
"But we mustn't stay here," she exclaimed hurriedly. "We must go at
once."
"I suppose you're right," I admitted with some reluctance. "What's
happened to that ruffian Craill?"
"He went off in the other boat just after I arrived. He might come
back at any moment."
"Well, I want to see him," I said; "but I don't think I'll wait now.
It's a pity to cram all one's pleasures into one afternoon."
She laid her hands pleadingly on my sleeve. "Do what I ask," she
begged. "Promise me you will go straight back to the island as soon
as you have taken me ashore?"
"I am not going to take you ashore," I said. "You are coming home
with me."
She made a quick gesture of protest, but I went on without giving her
time to answer.
"There's no other way out of it," I said, speaking with the utmost
seriousness. "After what's happened this afternoon you have simply
got to tell me the truth. Don't you see, dear, you and I are in this
together, and unless I know----"
"Yes, yes," she interrupted breathlessly, "I must tell you; I had
already made up my mind to do it." She paused in piteous hesitation.
"I daren't come to the island, though," she added; "if anyone saw
us----"
"No one can possibly see us," I objected. "It's a hundred times
safer than any other place. We can talk comfortably there, and I can
row you ashore afterwards and land you wherever you like. This fog's
not going to lift for another twenty-four hours."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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