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Updated: June 24, 2025
He turned back to the little writing-room, scribbled a note and sent it down by the boots. In about half an hour he was called once more out into the garden. A huge, loose-jointed man was standing there, unshaven, untidily dressed, and with the look in his eyes of a man who has been drinking heavily. "Are you Job Rowsell?" Granet inquired. "That's my name," the man admitted.
"It's all I want of it for a bit, any way," Rowsell muttered, pushing his way along the quay. "If there's any of you for a drink, I'm your man. What-ho, Nichols? Lethbridge?" Lethbridge muttered something and turned away. Nichols, too, declined. "I am not sure, Job Rowsell," the latter declared, "that I like your money nor the way you earn it." Job Rowsell stopped for a minute.
If a fiver isn't enough for you, make it a tenner, but keep her going where I put her." Rowsell obeyed but his face grew darker. He leaned towards his passenger. "What's your game?" he demanded hoarsely. "There's some of them on the island'd have me by the throat if they only knew the things I could tell 'em. What's your game here, eh? Are you on the cross?"
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