She nodded her head. "He's in the Coast Patrol--the same as he was when the war was on. Fancy your not knowing that now! Why, I made certain you'd come down to pay him a visit, seeing as how you were such friends." "I haven't had a letter from him for ages," I explained. "The last time he wrote he was up at some God-forsaken place in the North of Scotland." I paused, while the full realisation of all that Bobby's presence would mean filtered joyfully through my heart. "By Jove, that's gorgeous news, Mrs. Summers!" I added. "You couldn't have told me anything in the world which would have pleased me more." "But if you haven't come to see him," she demanded curiously, "whatever's brought you back into these parts?" Her question reminded me suddenly of the real purpose of my visit. "It's my turn to give you a little surprise," I said, and then, facing towards the door, I pointed out in the direction of Greensea. "Do you know who lives there?" I asked. "Mr. Jannaway did," she said, "but he's been dead and gone a matter of two months. There's no one on the island now, except the caretaker, Mr. Bascomb." "Oh, yes, there is," I retorted. "There's a distinguished gentleman called Mr. John Dryden." She shook her head at me reprovingly. "Full of your little jokes," she repeated. "Just the same as you always was." "It's no joke, Mrs. Summers," I persisted. "Mr. Jannaway was my uncle, and he had the good sense to die without making a will. The result is that I scoop the lot--his money and Greensea Island and everything else." Something in my manner must have convinced her that I was speaking the truth, for she threw up her hands in a gesture of profound astonishment. "Well I never!" she exclaimed. "Why, I did hear some talk that the place was to go to Mr. Jannaway's nephew, but just to think that of all people in the world it should happen to be you!" "It's a bit of a knock-out, isn't it?" I said sympathetically. "I haven't quite got over it myself yet." She sat down again in her chair. "It properly took my breath away for the minute," she declared. "Not but what I'm gladder than I can say, Mr. Dryden, and I'm sure there's no gentleman in the world who deserves a bit of good luck more than what you do." "Thank you very much," I returned, with my best bow. "D'you mean to live on the island?" she asked. "I hope to," I said truthfully; and then, thinking that this was a favourable chance for making my enquiry, I added: "I suppose there have been all sorts of changes since I was here--lots of fresh people in the neighbourhood?" She paused, as if to consider the problem. "Not so very many, sir," she said. "There isn't much to bring folks here except in the summer time. Mrs. Green at the Gunner's Arms is dead, as I suppose you've heard." "Yes," I said. "I have just come from there."