"There's plenty of sport," he added, "any amount of it; only, if you don't mind my giving you a tip, you want to be a little careful how you go about it. The fact is that some of these fellows round here--the professional gunners, I mean--are as jealous as hell. They are a rough lot, and I wouldn't put much beyond them when they get really nasty." I looked at him with some surprise. I had run across a certain number of these gentry when I had been messing around in the motor launch with Bobby Dean, and although they were a queer crowd in their way, I should never have suspected them of being dangerous. "You don't mean to say they'd take a pot shot at one," I said, "or anything bloodthirsty of that sort?" "It sounds rather a large order," he admitted. "All the same, when I first came here I had a couple of devilish narrow escapes. They may have been accidents, of course, but if so--" He shrugged his shoulders in a fashion that was sufficiently expressive. "It doesn't seem to have interfered much with your shooting," put in Ross. "Oh, I'm all right now," he replied easily. "I'm well in their good books because I have doctored up two or three of them when they were seedy, and I suppose they feel grateful to me in their way." He turned to me. "I thought I ought to mention it though, just to put you on your guard." "Thanks very much," I said. "I'm not a nervous person, but I'll keep my eyes open in case anyone should mistake me for a duck." As though suddenly thinking of the time, Dr. Manning glanced at the slim gold watch which he wore upon his wrist. "I must be off," he announced. "I'm expecting some friends on the barge at half-past three." He rose to his feet and shook hands with both of us. "I shall see you again before very long, I suppose?" he added, addressing himself to me. "I shall be down here for good in three or four days' time," I said. "Well, don't forget to make use of me," he returned. "If you would like to be put up for the club at Shalston or anything of that sort you have only got to let me know." I thanked him again, and we all walked down together to the landing-stage, where he got into his boat and started off on his return journey. Ross and I stood for a minute watching the long wake of foam that he left behind him as he sped rapidly away into the distance. "I am beginning well," I said. "It's something to have made friends with one's next-door neighbour." Ross, who was still staring at the retreating dinghy, indulged in a rather doubtful grunt. "I suppose he's all right," he said half reluctantly. "I can't say I cottoned to him much myself. He's too damned good-looking for my taste." "There doesn't seem to be much love lost between him and Bascomb," I remarked. "I wonder what the trouble is."