one had given
him up. I did not like to be beaten. That's why I hired Dingle's
decked boat. There was just the accommodation in her to sleep a man and
a dog. But I had no dog-friend to invite. Fyne's dog who saved Flora
de Barral's life is the last dog-friend I had. I was rather lonely
cruising about; but that, too, on the river has its charm, sometimes. I
chased the mystery of the vanishing Powell dreamily, looking about me at
the ships, thinking of the girl Flora, of life's chances--and, do you
know, it was very simple."

"What was very simple?" I asked innocently.

"The mystery."

"They generally are that," I said.

Marlow eyed me for a moment in a peculiar manner.

"Well, I have discovered the mystery of Powell's disappearances. The
fellow used to run into one of these narrow tidal creeks on the Essex
shore. These creeks are so inconspicuous that till I had studied the
chart pretty carefully I did not know of their existence. One
afternoon, I made Powell's boat out, heading into the shore. By the
time I got close to the mud-flat his craft had disappeared inland. But
I could see the mouth of the creek by then. The tide being on the turn
I took the risk of getting stuck in the mud suddenly and headed in. All
I had to guide me was the top of the roof of some sort of small
building. I got in more by good luck than by good management. The sun
had set some time before; my boat glided in a sort of winding ditch
between two low grassy banks; on both sides of me was the flatness of
the Essex marsh, perfectly still. All I saw moving was a heron; he was
flying low, and disappeared in the murk. Before I had gone half a mile,
I was up with the building the roof of which I had seen from the river.
It looked like a small barn. A row of piles driven into the soft bank
in front of it and supporting a few planks made a sort of wharf. All
this was black in the falling dusk, and I could just distinguish the
whitish ruts of a cart-track stretching over the marsh towards the
higher land, far away. Not a sound was to be heard. Against the low
streak of light in the sky I could see the mast of Powell's cutter
moored to the bank some twenty yards, no more, beyond that black barn or
whatever it was. I hailed him with a loud shout. Got no answer. After
making fast my boat just astern, I walked along the bank to have a look
at Powell's. Being so much bigger than mine she was aground already.
Her sails were fur