I walked as far as the tree and looked up into the arching fronds. Nobody
was up there. I could see the moonlit sky through the fronds. Nor was
Grue lying asleep anywhere on the other side of the coral ridge.

And suddenly I became aware of all my latent distrust and dislike for the
man. And the vigour of my sentiments surprised me because I really had
not understood how deep and thorough my dislike had been.

Also, his utter disappearance struck me as uncanny. Both boats were
there; and there were many leagues of sea to the nearest coast.

Troubled and puzzled I turned and walked back to the dead embers of the
fire. Kemper had merely changed the timbre of his snore to a whistling
aria, which at any other time would have enraged me. Now, somehow, it
almost comforted me.

Seated on the shore I looked out to sea, racking my brains for an
explanation of Grue's disappearance. And while I sat there racking them,
far out on the water a little flock of ducks suddenly scattered and rose
with frightened quackings and furiously beating wings.

For a moment I thought I saw a round, dark object on the waves where the
flock had been.

And while I sat there watching, up out of the sea along the reef to my
right crawled a naked, dripping figure holding a dead duck in his mouth.

Fascinated, I watched it, recognising Grue with his ratty black hair all
plastered over his face.