From this retrospective effort one fact emerged with startling clearness. However wild and incredible it might seem, someone had undoubtedly attempted to murder me. There had been a whole-hearted efficiency about the attack which rendered any other conclusion impossible. If I had merely been knocked on the head from behind I might have attributed the kind attention to some prowling dock rat who had suddenly seen the chance of picking up a little money, but the recollection of that extra shove which had sent me sprawling into the water put this explanation altogether out of court. It was murder, not loot, which had been my assailant's object, and nothing but the providential thickness of my skull had robbed him of success. So far from clearing up the riddle, however, this only made things more unaccountable than ever. Why on earth anyone in the world should be thirsting for my blood was a problem for which I could find no conceivable solution. No doubt I have managed to make some enemies amongst the various crews I have had to handle in my time, but, after all, people don't attempt to split one's skull unless they have a rather more pressing reason than mere personal dislike. Gradually, and with a kind of half-incredulous hesitation, my thoughts began to turn in another direction. Could it be possible that this adventure was in some way or other connected with my new inheritance? Ever since I had received that unexpected telegram at Leixoes I seemed to have been moving in a vague atmosphere of mystery and danger, which increased rather than lessened with each fresh discovery that I made. My interview with Miss de Roda had been a strange enough opening to the whole business, while the various facts that I had subsequently picked up from Mr. Drayton only served to strengthen the impression left on me by that amazing incident. There was now little doubt in my mind that my late lamented uncle had been a pretty complete blackguard, and that in attributing his passion for solitude to a guilty conscience the detective had been more or less on the right track. Quite possibly, as I had originally guessed, de Roda himself had been mixed up with some of his shady transactions, in which case it was only natural that the former's niece should have been a trifle upset on hearing my news. This at least was a possible explanation, and, so far as I could see, the only one that fitted in with the facts of the case. Where it failed to be particularly illuminating, however, was with regard to my attempted assassination. Why my uncle's sins--if they were sins--should be visited upon me in this prompt and drastic fashion was a bewildering question which I was quite unable to answer. After all, I had had nothing to do with his confounded past, and, unless there was another heir lurking in the background, it was difficult to see how my departure from this planet could possibly benefit anybody.