“Oh, please take it, Neil,” said Joyce simply.

“Very well,” I answered, and stuffing it into my side pocket, I buttoned up my coat.  “Now, Tommy,” I said; “if you’ll put me ashore we’ll start work.”

It was about a hundred yards to the mouth of the creek, and with the tide running hard against us it was quite a stiff little pull.  Tommy, however, insisted on taking me the whole way down, just to see whether there was any chance of getting along outside the sea-wall.  We landed at the extreme point, and jumping out on to the mud, I picked my way carefully round the corner and stared up the long desolate stretch of river frontage.  The tide was still some way out, and although the going was not exactly suited to patent-leather boots, it was evidently quite possible for any one who was not too particular.

I turned round and signalled to Tommy that I was all right; then, keeping in as close as I could to the sea-wall, I set off on my journey.  It was slow walking, for every now and then I had to climb up the slope to get out of the way of some hopelessly soft patch of mud.  On one of these occasions, when I had covered about three-quarters of a mile, I peered cautiously over the top of the bank.  Some little way ahead of me, right out in the middle of the marsh, I saw what I imagined to be my goal.  It was a tiny brick building with a large wooden shed alongside, the latter appearing considerably the newer and more sound of the two.

I was inspecting it with the natural interest that one takes in one’s future country house, when quite suddenly I saw the door of the building opening.  A moment later a man stepped out on to the grass, and looked quickly round as though to make certain that there was no one watching.  Although the distance was about three hundred yards I recognized him at once.

It was my friend of the restaurant—­Mr. Bruce Latimer.

CHAPTER XVI

CONFRONTING THE INTRUDER

The discovery was a beautifully unexpected one, but I was getting used to surprises by this time.  I bobbed down at once behind the sea-wall, and crouched there for a moment wondering what was the best thing to do.  After what I had found out it seemed hardly probable that Latimer could be there in the capacity of McMurtrie’s caretaker; but if not, how on earth had he hit upon the place, and what was he doing prowling about inside it?

Raising myself up again with extreme care I had another look through the grass.  Latimer had left the building and was stooping down in front of the door of the shed, his attention being obviously concentrated on the lock.  I was rather a long way off, but as far as I could see he appeared to be trying to slip back the bolt with the aid of a piece of wire.

I think that decided me.  However dangerous it might be to show myself, it seemed still more risky to allow some one of whose motives I was at present completely ignorant to inspect my future workshop.  Almost before I realized what I was doing I had slipped over the bank and dropped down on to the marsh.