"But it is not," Warrender broke in, nettled by the Russian's suavity and his Latin. "We hadn't been twelve hours on the island when our motor-boat was set adrift----"

"My dear young man, _quandoque dormitat Homerus_--you will correct me if I do not quote accurately; my schooldays, alas! are a distant past.

Even the most experienced sailors--and I am far from saying I do not include you among them--may tie a careless knot; make a slip, as you English say. And the current is strong when swollen by the rain.

Really, my dear sir----"

"At any rate tin-tacks don't rain from heaven. We had a shower of them over our tent one night, and in the morning----"

"_Latet anguis in herba_! Come, come; you were dreaming. I am told that in the past the island was a favourite resort of trippers, a cla.s.s of people who reprehensibly leave behind them much rubbish--paper bags, bottles, tin cans; why not tin-tacks?"

Warrender was fuming, irritated by his lack of evidence as well as by the secretary's manner. He wished that he had ignored the minor incidents, and confined his statement to the latest.

"We'd no proof--I know that--till last night," he said. "A fellow tripped over a rope snare we had rigged up. One of us caught him, and knocked him out; he was clearly a foreigner----"

"And you have him in custody? Ah, now we are getting to something substantial! He was a foreigner; on the principle _ex pede Herculem_--you recognise the proverb?--you infer that he belongs to my staff. And you did not bring him with you for confrontation?"

"He was rescued by----"

"By another foreigner?"

"We don't know who by; he gave my friend a blow from behind."

"That is more serious, truly. But what do you tell me? You are camping on the island--with permission? No, of course not; is it not No Man's Island? Well, what is no man's is all men's. What more likely than that others are camping there also? One of them falls over your rope, and is knocked out by your friend; your friend is, in turn, knocked out by a friend of the tripper. It is the _lex talionis_--the term is familiar to you? That, of course, is only a theory, but I commend it to your consideration. And now, I take it, I have the sum of your complaints.

I put it to you, do they make a case against my staff?"

"I wasn't making a case against your staff," said Warrender. "I merely stated the facts."

"But with a bias; yes, with a bias, natural enough to youth and hot blood. I do not blame you; but you will agree that I am somewhat concerned for the good name of the men under my charge. Lest you should still harbour doubts about them, I will summon them. You shall see them. They number four. There is Jensen, the Swede, whom you, sir"--turning to Armstrong--"so unhappily misjudged. But you shall see them all. There is a woman, too, the wife of the chef, an amiable countrywoman of yours. It is perhaps not necessary to summon her? You do not suspect her of sowing tin-tacks or falling over your rope?"

He smiled, and without waiting for an answer went to the open house-door and called his chauffeur, to whom he gave instructions. Meanwhile, the two boys, chafing under his politeness with its touch of irony, exchanged looks of silent sympathy.

"The men will be here immediately," said Gradoff, rejoining them. "What a delightful summer we are having! _Per aestivam liquidam_--you remember the line? How I envy you your daily browsing on the Cla.s.sics! Ah, here come the four suspects! Two, you perceive, are tall; two are short. I will align them in order of their heights, as they do in your army, I believe. Halt, men! Stand in line: Jensen at one end, then Radewski, then Prutti, last of all, Rod. Now, my dear sirs, inspect the company."

"There's no need," said Warrender. "We've seen them all in or about the village. None of these is the man you saw, Jack?"

"No," replied Armstrong, shortly.

"But darkness, even moonlight, is deceptive," said Gradoff, in his suavest manner. "Really, I am concerned to convince you thoroughly; I should regret your going away harbouring the least particle of suspicion. I will interrogate them in turn. Jensen, you do not amuse yourself by sowing tin-tacks on No Man's Island?--Jensen, I may explain, is Mr. Pratt's horsekeeper, in particular, and handy-man in general.

Well, Jensen?"

"Nope," replied the man, gruffly, eyeing Armstrong with a scowl.

"And you, Radewski?--Radewski is the gardener." The boys recognised him as the pa.s.senger in the car that had collided with the farm-wagon.

"No, of course not," answered the Pole, smiling.

"And now you, Prutti?--the chauffeur, as you see."

"It is silly, stupid; I say ze question----" began the Italian, volubly.

"Yes, yes; but I want no comments. Just say yes or no," Gradoff interrupted.

"No, zen; I say no. I say ze question----"

"He comes from the south, gentlemen," said Gradoff, deprecatingly.

"Now, Rod, what have you to say?"

"Sacre nom d'un----"

"Now, now. Maximilien Rod is the chef, gentlemen, accustomed to the use of the diction of the menu. Plain English, Rod, if you please."

"Zen I say zat ze man vat accuse me of so imbecile, so--so--so----"

"Contain yourself, Rod. Yes or no?"

"No, no; not at all--no!"

"Four negatives do not make an affirmative," said Gradoff, turning to the boys, and smiling with the persistent urbanity they were beginning to detest. "These are all my staff--with the exception of the excellent woman, Rod's wife. Would you like to pursue your inquiries?"

"Thank you, it is unnecessary," replied Warrender, in as even and polite a tone as he was master of.

"Then the men may return to their duties, and I may begin my journey.

May I give you a lift as far as the cross-roads? Or, stay! You are here very near the river. You may prefer to take a short cut through the grounds, and avoid the long walk on the dusty road."

"Thank you," said Warrender, ready to accept any suggestion that would remove him quickly from the presence of Mr. Gradoff; "if some one will show us the way."

"Certainly. Quite a happy thought," said the Russian. He called to the chef, the rearmost of the party filing away. "Rod, show these gentlemen the shortest way to the river; bring them opposite to the island.

Good-morning, gentlemen. I am sorry you have found me a broken reed.

But I do hope your holiday will not be spoilt; I have such keen memories of my own happy holidays--_liberatio et vacuitas omnis molestiae_: you remember your Cicero? _Good_-morning."

He sprang into the car, in which the chauffeur was already seated, and with a smile and a wave of the hand was driven away.

CHAPTER XI

INFORMATION RECEIVED

"Sarcastic swine!" muttered Armstrong, savagely, as he set off with Warrender behind the rotund little chef.

"So confoundedly polite I could have kicked him," returned Warrender, in the same undertone. "His beastly Latin, too! What did he take us for?"

"What we are--a couple of mugs. And Pratt's worse, with his absurd theories. Of course these chaps aren't in it. Rush is at the bottom of it, and the other fellow, though he looked like a foreigner, is very likely only some ugly freak of a Devonian after all."

"Well, I'll be hanged if I stand any more of Rush's nonsense. Next time anything happens, I'll get old Crawshay to set that bobby moving we saw the other day. I'm sick of it."

Ill-humour had for the moment got the upper hand, and they were conscious only of their soreness as they followed their guide through the unkempt grounds. Their attention was attracted presently by the tower that reared itself out of a thicket some little distance on their left. It was a square much-dilapidated building of stone, encrusted with moss and ivy, reaching a height of some fifty or sixty feet. The window openings were boarded up with deal planks that were evidently new.