eech.

The boat took many such grassy corners and followed many such reedy and
silent reaches of river; but before the search had become monotonous
they had swung round a specially sharp angle and come into the silence
of a sort of pool or lake, the sight of which instinctively arrested
them. For in the middle of this wider piece of water, fringed on every
side with rushes, lay a long, low islet, along which ran a long, low
house or bungalow built of bamboo or some kind of tough tropic cane.
The upstanding rods of bamboo which made the walls were pale yellow, the
sloping rods that made the roof were of darker red or brown, otherwise
the long house was a thing of repetition and monotony. The early morning
breeze rustled the reeds round the island and sang in the strange ribbed
house as in a giant pan-pipe.

"By George!" cried Flambeau; "here is the place, after all! Here is Reed
Island, if ever there was one. Here is Reed House, if it is anywhere. I
believe that fat man with whiskers was a fairy."

"Perhaps," remarked Father Brown impartially. "If he was, he was a bad
fairy."

But even as he spoke the impetuous Flambeau had run his boat ashore in
the rattling reeds, and they stood in the long, quaint islet beside the
odd and silent house.

The house stood with its back, as it were, to the river and the only
landing-stage; the main entrance was on the other side, and looked down
the long island garden. The visitors approached it, therefore, by a
small path running round nearly three sides of the house, close under
the low eaves. Through three different windows on three different sides
they looked in on the same long, well-lit room, panelled in light wood,
with a large number of looking-glasses, and laid out as for an elegant
lunch. The front door, when they came round to it at last, was flanked
by two turquoise-blue flower pots. It was opened by a butler of the
drearier type--long, lean, grey and listless--who murmured that Prince
Saradine was from home at present, but was expected hourly; the house
being kept ready for him and his guests. The exhibition of the card with
the scrawl of green ink awoke a flicker of life in the parchment face of
the depressed retainer, and it was with a certain shaky courtesy that
he suggested that the strangers should remain. "His Highness may be here
any minute," he said, "and would be distressed to have just missed any
gentleman he had invited. We have orders always to keep a little