I was very thankful to get out of that depressing house and away from Mr.
O'Brien's laugh, and yet hardly was I on the high road again before I was
blaming myself for not having lingered longer and pursued my
investigations there a little further.

The other "Civilised" households in the island apparently numbered only
three. Now, if my spy were working single handed he might conceivably be
some better educated farmer who had lived abroad and turned traitor, but
it seemed to me most unlikely that he should have no confederates, and it
was scarcely possible for two or three men of that particular type to be
gathered in so small a community. Brains and education seemed implied in
every step of the dangerous game they were playing. Therefore it was only
common sense to suspect one at least of these "civilised" houses, unless
they could all manifestly clear their characters. Anyhow it were
foolishness to neglect this consideration.

And what had I discovered already? A couple of men living by themselves
in a criminal looking mansion, who hurriedly pulled down blinds, looked
both suspicious and apprehensive at the sight of a stranger, and made odd
innuendoes and allusions in their conversation. Why hadn't I stayed on
and pursued my investigations? Well, because the moment I discovered I
was in the wrong house, my insistent idea was to push on to Mr. Rendall's
and consult with him about the whole situation. But now I began to
reconsider this decision very seriously.

I was out of sight by this time in a secluded part of the road, where it
ran through a dip in the ground, with the head of one of those little
reedy lochs only a yard or two away, and a bright glimpse of the sea
beyond. The marshy shores were a perfect blaze of yellow wild flowers and