CHAPTER XXIX

VISCONTI

Landing an hour later, after a hurried luncheon on board, and leaving Glastonbury to look after the ship, the adventurers made for the inn, engaged rooms, and then, under the guidance of Sam, turned in the direction of the Bournemouth Road, where Bowler's cottage was situated.

Sam knew the place. He knew nearly everyone in Poole, and where they lived, and how. He knew that Bowler had paid for his cottage and for the one adjoining which he had bought last summer out of the profits of the herring fishery, and which he intended to furnish and let in the summer to come.

"A lucky thing it's empty," said Sam, as he led the way. "Once we have the things here it's only a question of a motor-lorry to shift them when we know where Behrens wants them taken to. I'll get Taylor to bring his cart down to the quay at four o'clock to bring them up here."

"Won't people suspect?" asked Martia.

"Lord, no! It's me, you see. Besides, there's nothing to suspect. It's only crockery ware and curiosities we have brought from abroad. Joynson--he's the Customs man--knows me, and I'll have a talk with him. Here we are."

He stopped at a cottage on the right of the road.

"Here's the place," said he. "Bowler's is just beyond. Wait, and I'll get the key from him."

He went off, and returned in a minute with the key, opened the door, and they went in.

It was a five-roomed cottage, counting the kitchen; clean and dry and empty of everything but a sack of potatoes reposing by the fireplace of the front room.

Carrying the key with them, they went to the post-office to send a wire to Behrens, announcing their safe arrival. Then they returned to the inn.

Entering, they almost ran into the arms of a tall black-bearded man who was coming out, his hat on the back of his head and a cigarette between his lips.

It was Visconti! Sam recognised him at once, and whispered the name to the others.

The inn coming crashing down before their eyes, or even on the top of their heads, would scarcely have surprised them more.

And it was a double surprise, for Visconti did not try to avoid them, did not seem startled. He recognised Sam with a smile that had something of mockery in it, raised his hat to the girl, and passed out without a word and with the cigarette still between his lips.

"Well, I'm dashed!" said Sam.

Martia, who had only seen Visconti through the glass at Hyalos, turned to Sam.

"You are sure it's he?" she asked.

"Yes," said Sam.

She turned to the office, behind the window of which the manageress of the inn was seated, doing accounts.

"Is that tall gentleman who has just gone out staying here?" she asked.

"Yes," replied the manageress. "He has been here some days."

"May I ask his name?"

"He is Mr. Visconti."

Martia thanked the woman, and, turning to her companions, led the way into the coffee-room, which was empty.