he first brung them here. Pestered the life out of him, they did. University perfessors and all—but hewouldn't see none of them."
"Well, this is different," I answered. "My name's Jim Dewey, and Mr. Farrant has especially requested me to call and help him with his work."
"Jim Dewey?" The ferryman turned the quid of tobacco in his mouth. "Yeah, I seem ter remember Mr. Farrant saying you could come."
But he still stood there, leaning upon his pole, eyeing me with ruminating, brooding suspicion.
"Well, why don't you bring the boat near enough for me to step down?" I asked.
"See here, mister, how'd I know you ain't come to try to help one of Doctor Coyne's loonies to escape?" he asked.
"What the devil do you mean? Who's he?" I answered. But before the old man could speak again it flashed across my mind that Neil had told me the island was occupied principally by the house and extensive grounds of Doctor Rolf Coyne's private sanitarium, where some of the wealthiest and most hopelessly insane of Virginia and other States were housed.
That was why Neil, who had been associated with Doctor Coyne for three or four years before his departure for Egypt, as assistant to the University of North Virginia Excavation Fund, had chosen this lonely spot in which to work out certain experiments with the mummies that he had brought back. And I, because we
had been friends through our four years at the University together, was to be permitted to assist in his task.
He had written me in guarded terms that had aroused my curiosity, had asked me to wire him whether I could come, and I had wired back my acceptance.
The old ferryman winked at me. "There's fellers wouldn't stop at helping the most desp'rit of them loonies to git away, if they was well paid for it," he said. "And they got away more than once. That's why we don't have no bridge between the island and the mainland. I'm Old Incorruptible, I am. That's what the doctor calls me. If you're a friend of Mr. Farranfs, I reckon you got the right to cross, but if you're thinking of gittin' some of them poor devils away, lemme tell you Doctor Coyne's bloodhounds will run ye down and tear ye to pieces."
"Well, I'm not going to wait here all day while you're making up your mind whether I'm a fit person to cross," I retorted. "So bring your boat up to the bank, or get back where you came from, and I'll phone Mr. Farrant you refused to take me over."
The ancient chewed a minute or two on that, then reluctantly poled up to the bank. Clutching my suitcase, I stepped aboard, and the old man pushed back through the muddy water toward the opposite shore.
"How much to pay?" I asked, as we finally landed.
"Ye can make it what ye like, mister," he answered. "Money don't mean nothing to me. Old Incorruptible, the doctor called me, and that's what I am. Ye can make it a quarter, or ye can make it fifty cents."
Having no change, I handed him a dollar, and told him to keep it. His eyes bulged avariciously as he pocketed the bill. "Now which way to Mr. Farrant's house?" I asked.
"Down to Tap's Point," replied the ancient. "Foller that road through the village, and you'll come to the house a quarter mile or so
