Bővebb ismertető
Mr. Sattcrthwaite sat on the terrace of Crow's Nest and watched his host, Sir Charles Cartwright, climbing up the path from the sea. Crow's Nest was a modern bungalow of the better type. It had no half timbering, no gables, no excrescences dear to many a builder's heart. It was a plain, white, solid building, deceptive as to size, since it was a good deal bigger than it looked. It owed its name to its position, high up, overlooking the harbor of Loomouth. Indeed, from one corner of the terrace, protected by a strong balustrade, there was a sheer drop to the sea below. By road. Crow's Nest was a mile from the town. The road ran inland and then zigzagged high up above the sea. On foot it was accessible in seven minutes by the steep fisherman's path that Sir Charles Cartwright was ascending at this minute.
Sir Charles was a well-built, sunburned man of middle age. He wore old, gray-flannel trousers and a white sweater. He had a slightly rolling gait, and carried his hands half closed as he walked. Nine people out of ten would say, **Retired naval man; can't mistake the type." The tenth and more discerning would have hesi-