seems unnatural, monstrous, that I should fear this Philip Ray more than Mellor. If I ought to be afraid of any one, it is Mellor; and yet I stand in no dread of him, because, no doubt-"
He paused with his mouth open. He was staring at the tow-path.
A tall slender man had come into view beyond the head of Boland's Ait. He was walking rapidly north, and swinging his arms as he moved.
"It is he!" whispered Crawford in a tone of fear.
He stood motionless by the window for a while-five, ten, fifteen minutes. The man did not reappear.
Crawford wiped his forehead, which had grown suddenly damp.
"At any cost I must find out the explanation of this unaccountable disappearance."
He went from the house and into the blind lane at the front of the house.
CHAPTER VI.
CRAWFORD'S INVESTIGATIONS
William Crawford ascended the lane until he reached the high road; then, turning sharply to the left, he went at a more leisurely pace towards the Welford Bridge.
He kept his eyes fixed ahead, and in every action of his body there was that vital alertness which characterised him in motion and even in repose. This alertness was more noticeable now than it had been before. Frequently, when he put down his foot in walking, he seemed dissatisfied with the ground upon which it had alighted, and shifted the foot slightly, but briskly and decisively, while resting on it, and stepping out with the other leg. He touched one thigh sharply with one hand, then the other thigh with the other hand, as though to assure himself that his hands and legs were within call, should he need their services for some purpose besides that upon which they were now employed. He rapped his chest with his fist, and thrust his thumb and forefinger into his waistcoat pocket and brought forth nothing. In another man this would be called nervous excitement, but in William Crawford it did not arise from any unusual perturbation, but was the result of unutilised energy.
As he approached the bridge his pace fell to a saunter. He subdued his restlessness or manifestations of repressed activity. Nothing but his eyes showed extraordinary alertness, and they were fixed dead ahead. The houses on his left prevented his seeing the tow-path, and the humpbacked bridge prevented his seeing where the approach from the toll-house joined the main road.
On the bridge lounged a group of loungers similar to that of the evening before. When Crawford had got over the middle of the bridge, and the road began to dip westward, he approached the parapet and looked up the canal. The long straight line ran off in the distance to a vanishing point, seeming to rise as it receded, but not a soul was visible from the spot at which he stood to the point at which the path disappeared.
Red Jim sidled up to where the stranger had paused, and after drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, by way of purifying himself before speaking to a man of property, said deferentially:
"Good-evening, guv'nor."
"Good-evening," said Crawford briskly, sharply, in a tone which implied he would stand no familiarity or nonsense.
Red Jim pushed his hat over his eyes in token of acknowledging a rebuff; but he remained where he was in token of cherishing hope of a job, or anyway of money.
Crawford took a few paces further down the slope of the bridge. He did not care to speak in the hearing of all these men. Then he beckoned to Red Jim. The man came to him with alacrity.
"How long have you been here this evening?"
"Most of the evening. I'm out of work."
"You have been here half-an-hour?"
"Yes. A good bit more."
"Have you seen any one pass along the tow-path this way (pointing) in the last half-an-hour?"
"No."
"Did you see any one come along the path in that time?"
"Ay, I did."
Crawford paused a moment in thought. He laughed and said, "I have a little bet on. I betted that a man did come along the tow-path, but did not come off it at the bridge here. I was looking out of a window and saw him. My friend said it was impossible, as the man otherwise must go into the canal."
It was plain Crawford did not appear anxious about the man himself. It was only about the wager he cared.
"The man went across the canal."
"Across the canal!" cried Crawford in astonishment. "Do you mean over the bridge?"
"No."
"Then how did he get across the canal?"
"How much have you on it?" asked Red Jim. He was afraid his own interests might suffer if he gave all the information he possessed before making terms.
"Confound you! what is that to you?" cried Crawford angrily.
"Well, then, I'll tell you how he went across," said Red Jim, looking up straight over his head at the sky.
"How did he get over?" cried the other impatiently, as Jim showed no sign of speaking.
"He flew," said Jim, suddenly dropping his full prominent blue eyes on Crawford. "He flew, that's the way he got across the canal." And, thrusting his hands deep into his wide-opened trousers pockets, he began moving slowly away.
For a moment Crawford looked as if he could kill Ford. Then, with a sudden quick laugh, he said:
"Oh, I understand; I will make it worth a tanner for you."
Red Jim was back by his side in a moment. He stretched out his arm, and, pointing towards the tail of the island, said:
"Do you see that floating stage?"
"Floating stage? No. What is a floating stage?"
"Two long pieces of timber with planks across. Don't you see it at the tail of Boland's Ait?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, that's the way he got over. That was drawn by a chain across the canal to the tow-path. He got on it and then drew it back to the Ait, do you see? So you've won your money, guv'nor."
Crawford's face grew darker and darker, as the explanation proceeded. He handed Jim the promised coin in silence, turned back upon the way he had come, and began retracing his steps at a quick rate. His eyes winked rapidly, and he muttered curses as he walked.
"Can it be-can it possibly be that Philip Ray is my next-door neighbour? Incredible! And yet that was Philip Ray, as sure as I am alive, and he went to this island! Can this Robinson Crusoe be Philip Ray? If so, I cannot keep on here. I must find some other place for my-business. This is not exactly Camberwell, and I heard Ray lives in Camberwell; but this is very near it-very near Camberwell!"
When he reached Crawford Street he diminished his speed. It was plain he did not want to seem in a hurry. As soon as he gained the house he ascended the stairs at once to his own room. He closed the door, and began walking up and down, hastily muttering unconnected words. After a while he went to the window and looked out on Boland's Ait with an expression in which hatred and fear were blended.
The
