"I want you, Jimmy," said the eccentric man on the wall, and with
the very word he had let himself down with a leap on to the
centre of the lawn, where he bounded once literally like an
India-rubber ball and then stood grinning with his legs astride.
The only three facts that Turnbull could now add to his inventory
were that the man had an ugly-looking knife swinging at his
trousers belt, that his brown feet were as bare as his bronzed
trunk and arms, and that his eyes had a singular bleak brilliancy
which was of no particular colour.

"Excuse my not being in evening dress," said the newcomer with an
urbane smile. "We scientific men, you know--I have to work my own
engines--electrical engineer--very hot work."

"Look here," said Turnbull, sturdily clenching his fists in his
trousers pockets, "I am bound to expect lunatics inside these
four walls; but I do bar their coming from outside, bang out of
the sunset clouds."

"And yet you came from the outside, too, Jim," said the stranger
in a voice almost affectionate.

"What do you want?" asked Turnbull, with an explosion of temper
as sudden as a pistol shot.

"I have already told you," said the man, lowering his voice and
speaking with evident sincerity; "I want you."

"What do you want with me?"