Its silent motion barely caused the water to stir, as if it was on a great lake of dark treacle, and only if he listened very hard could Rex hear the soft lap of the water. There was a small bag at his feet containing clothes and his precious book. In one pocket he had the diamond and his picklock, in the other his little brazen egg. ‘Ahoy, there,’ called out Walter over his shoulder. He approached the jetty in a series of rather awkward manoeuvrings, bumping heavily against a post and causing the flimsy structure to shudder violently. Rex was both unsteadied and unnerved at his unusual technique. After all, he was going to have to cross to the island in this man’s care. Walter flung a rope out, which Rex caught and looped over the post. Walter grinned and his face crumpled as if it was collapsing in on itself. ‘Are you young Rex Grammaticus, coming over to the asylum?’ ‘I am,’ said Rex. ‘Not afeared, are you?’ Rex shook his head.
