" 
He did well . 
He got in touch with the woman Pete was passing off as his mother . 
Starmouth managed to win her confidence . 
It seems that she was an honest enough woman , only her mind was n't as clear as it could have been . 
She showed him photographs . 
He found out that the name of her house — Grand Greve — was taken from a bay in one of the Channel Islands . 
One of the small ones . 
Sark , that 's it . 
The Caxtons used to have their holidays there . 
Starmouth went there . 
He dug out some people who remembered the family . 
In the end he pieced it all together . 
The Caxtons had two boys — Michael and Derek . 
Pete first met them at school . 
It was a good school I sent him to , one of the best . 
He was a boarder . 
He could always turn on the charm when it suited him . 
The whole family came to like him . 
The real Michael — he was the same age as my son — died of pleurisy when he was eighteen . 
Soon after that Pete staged his drowning . 
He was always a smooth liar . 
He invented some plausible story or other and threw himself on the Caxtons ' generosity . 
They accepted him as a kind of substitute for the boy they had lost . 
Outside the family he began to pass himself off as Michael Caxton . 
The father was well-off and easy-going . 
He was easy meat for Pete . 
He sponged off him until he died just after the war . 
Then Pete had to look around for some other security . 
He found it — Dackson 's Wharf , and Dackson 's daughter . 
Mrs. Caxton 's other boy , Derek , had been killed in the war . 
After her husband died her brain began to fade . 
At times she thought Pete was really her own son . 
Other times she remembered that both Michael and Derek were dead . 
She could n't work it out . 
She was heading for a complete breakdown , Starmouth said . 
Then Starmouth found out that Pete was engaged to Geraldine Dackson . 
( Up to this point Jesty had told his story in a flat , though jerky , monotone . 
Now he grew more and more agitated . ) 
The time for my revenge was just round the corner . 
I told Starmouth to keep on watching Pete . 
Last Monday evening — a week ago to-day . 
God , only a week ! — he came to me . 
He had seen my son and another girl in intimacy . 
( Jesty 's voice became shrill ; his body began to twitch and jerk . ) 
My chance had come at last . 
I had to take it . 
I was going to smash him as he had twice tried to smash me . 
( His eyes , wild and frightened , were fixed on Tong . 
Tong guessed that they did not see him . ) 
I told Starmouth to go at once and report exactly what he had seen to Dackson and his daughter . 
He did as he was told . 
( There was a thin trickle of moisture at the corner of Jesty 's lips , but his speech was parched and unsteady . ) 
I thought that Dackson would ruin my son . 
I did not think he would kill him . 
I swear that I did not want Dackson to kill my son . 
I was n't at the wharf at any time on Wednesday . 
That is the truth , so help me God . " 
12 
Carol Carstairs , interviewed by Passon and Tong for the second time , began by agreeing that she could have been mistaken about the precise minute of Dackson 's visit the previous Wednesday , and ended by admitting that he was in fact at least half an hour late for his appointment with her . 
" There it is , " Passon commented afterwards . 
" She is a business woman . 
No doubt he paid her well for stretching the truth a bit . 
She was his second alibi , of course . 
The first was the television set — and a daughter loyal enough , or distressed enough , to lie for him . " 
"I 'm more sorry for Geraldine than anyone , " Tong said . 
" Unless it 's Ella Marsham . " 
"When you think it over , Harry , it 's difficult to imagine any visitor to the wharf other than Dackson himself persuading Caxton to step out on to the quay on such a bleak night . 
Caxton could hardly fail to obey his employer — and prospective father-in-law . " 
"Pete Jesty , alias Michael Caxton , " Tong said . 
" Think we would have got the truth from his father if it had n't been for old Sam Toberson ? " 
"Who knows ? 
At least Sam was one of the factors the commander did n't bargain for . " 
"Another was the body fetching up on the mooring-hook — practically where it started from . " 
"And you finding out about the spy at the Marshams ' , " Passon said . 
" Just a stroke of luck , sir , " Tong said . 
" Luck or not , Harry , it was the real turning-point for us . 
Must be true what they say . 
" Tong ca n't go wrong ! " " 
Coming from Long Dick this was praise indeed . 
Tong laughed happily . 
" I 'm a good dart-player too , " he said . 
13 
The long brutal winter ended at last . 
The plane trees in Southwark Park were wrapped in a delicate mist of bursting buds ; mild sunlight played with the grey face of the river ; the railway embankment along Railside Terrace was thinly carpeted with upshooting leaves of new weeds and grass ; and a revolution had come to the Toberson household . 
When Nick returned home he found that his mother was seriously ill . 
She had pneumonia . 
The sight of her youngest son , the doctor said , was the only thing that saved her ; it gave her the strength she needed to fight for life . 
Soon she was out of danger , but the doctor told Dan that she would have to remain in bed for some time and that thereafter it was essential that she should not have to exert herself . 
Dan , not knowing which way to turn , took a desperate course . 
He wrote to Rose beseeching her to help . 
The First Flower made a prompt appearance on the scene , bringing the baby with her . 
She announced happily that her husband , with the help of the eldest daughter , would be able to manage very well , and that there was no reason why she should n't stay at Railside Terrace indefinitely . 
With Grace helpless Rose set up her own autocracy . 
Her squeaking , querulous accents were heard without intermission . 
They rose over the baby 's interminable howling and were directed at everyone in equal measure . 
She was a poor and unpunctual cook . 
Normally indolent , she was now and again seized with unpredictable bouts of energy in the grip of which she swept through the house with a fury that disarranged everything and left a trail of havoc behind . 
Only the old man 's room was too much for her . 
Once she put her head round the door , and Sam shouted : 
" You get right out of this , Rose . 
You leave me in peace . " 
Rose took one breath of the stagnant air . 
" You — you polecat ! " she screeched , and retreated without argument . 
Her re2gime , hated alike by all the men , produced one extraordinary result . 
One day Fred met Nick at the front door as they were both about to enter the house . 
Fred grasped his brother 's elbow . 
" Nick , I ca n't stomach this much longer . " 
"Nor me . 
What 's the answer ? 
Mum 's picking up , but she 'll never be her old self again . " 
"That First Flower 's driving me nuts , " Fred said . 
" I 'm going to put a stop to it . " 
"What with — arsenic ? " 
Fred fixed his small eyes on his brother , beckoned him to stand closer , and whispered into his ear the most unexpected words Nick had ever heard . 
" I 'm going to get myself married , " Fred said . 
The next day he brought home a woman in her middle thirties and took her straight to his mother 's bedside . 
" Mum , this is Maggie . 
I 'm going to marry her , and I 'd like her to come and live with us . " 
Maggie was plump and plain with a pleasing smile , a placid nature , and a slow-moving but methodical mind . 
For twenty years she had worked in the bottling-store at the brewery , and Grace heard with astonishment that Fred had known her on and off for nearly as long . 
Grace , well aware of the turbulence that Rose was creating , was as anxious as the rest of the family to find an alternative solution . 
She took to Maggie at once ; and at once began working on the problem of how to accommodate Fred and a bride within the limited space available . 
As always , old Sam was the stumbling-block . 
It was the same dilemma she had to face when there was a prospect , now vanished for ever , of Nick marrying Ella Marsham . 
It was Nick who found the answer . 
" Only one thing for it , Mum , " he said , sitting on the edge of the bed and holding one of her hands in his . 
" Let Fred and Mag have the two upstairs rooms between them . 
Sam will have to come out of his kennel . 
The two of us will sleep in the front room downstairs . " 
"You wo n't ever shift him . " 
Nick patted her . 
" We 'll manage . 
Just you take it easy . 
We 'll sort it out . " 
Nick went at once to his grandfather , and found him buried in his bed with his head barely visible upon the pillow . 
Sam spent much of his time in bed these days . 
He argued that it was the only place where he could be safe from Rose . 
" See here , Sam , " Nick began . 
" You know Fred 's getting spliced . " 
"Gone soft in the head , " Sam said . 
" Same as I 've always said , women rule the roost and no man 's safe from 'em . 
Ought to be a better way of doing things . 
Take trees . " 
He rattled on very happily . 
" Trees have got the right idea . 
A tree 's got more sense than some people think . 
A tree do n't have to worry . 
Just stays put right where it was born . " 
"Sorry , Sam , you 're no tree , and you 've got to shift from this room . " 
The old man was so incensed that after a good deal of wriggling and twisting he managed to get his shoulders clear of all restrictions . 
He propped himself on one elbow . 
" You ca n't do it to me , Nick . 
I 've worked this room up to my way of thinking like I 'd educate a child . 
This room and me understands one another . " 
"Sam , " Nick said firmly , " either you and me share downstairs , and we have Mag , or you stick it out up here and we all get saddled with the First Flower for ever . " 
Sam sank back on his pillow . 
" Oh , my God ! 
All right , you win ! " 
With that settled Fred was soon married . 
The First Flower snatched up her infant and departed , muttering sarcasms . 
The whole household listened to the dwindling screams of the baby with relief . 
Maggie soon proved her worth , and after a time Dan summed up the general approval by saying : 
" She 's as good a worker as you could wish for . 
She speaks our language . 
Mag 's one of us . " 
Nick and his grandfather shared their bedroom amicably . 
The old man , though fighting a grumbling rearguard action , permitted himself gradually to become a little cleaner and tidier . 
In his heart he was well satisfied to have Nick 's company . 
When they were alone together he often explained all over again how shrewd he had been in discovering Alf Jesty 's secret . 
" Imagine it , Nick , just that bit of information Fred picked up about Pete Jesty always touching his nose , and me remembering from that snap you once showed me that this Caxton had some sort of a scar there . 
Just an idea to begin with , mind you — then click ! and I 'd got it . 
That was smart work , say what you like . " 
"It certainly was , Sam , " Nick would agree , and go on to say with a touch of self-importance : " No wonder he tried to have me suffocated back last summer . 
Must have thought I 'd rumbled him right from the start . " 
By this time Nick was certain in his own mind that he had really seen Caxton 's hand snatching at the prop holding the barge 's hatch open , though he could never prove it , and it would not be of much use if he could . 
But that was less important than the news that Sir Cedric had visited Haines at the flat in Jarvis Street . 
Sir Cedric had never spoken of such a call on the murdered man . 
" Off-hand " said Tarrant in reply to Oxenham , " I ca n't think of any of my friends who fits that description . 
" Then you suggest that the information that you were seen in the company of this man in Brighton is untrue ? " 
Tarrant was irritated by Oxenham 's tone as well as frightened , and he made his reply as offensive as he could . 
" You asked me whether I knew the man and I told you I did not recall anyone who tallied with that description . 
Only a perverted mind would say that I had suggested your informant was a liar . " 
Oxenham 's face flushed slightly . 
" I find your remark offensive , " he said . 
" That leaves me quite indifferent , " snapped Tarrant . 
Commander Rodgers felt the situation was getting out of hand . 
After all , he reflected , the police had nothing against Tarrant . 
True , he had sponsored Bianca Poravia , who had lied about her knowledge of Haines , but what had that to do with Tarrant ? 
Also , Tarrant 's car had been seen near Battersea Bridge , but the explanation offered seemed reasonable enough and could not be disproved on present information . 
Rodgers knew that Oxenham was merely fishing when he suggested that Tarrant might be the limping man who had been at Brighton . 
Plenty of people walked with a limp , and no link had been discovered between Tarrant and the white-haired man who had shown an interest in Haines . 
Rodgers decided that the questioning must be brought to a close immediately and he rose from his chair . 
He told himself that the only reason he was stopping Oxenham from probing further was that he knew Tarrant so well and trusted him . 
Not , Rodgers repeated , because Tarrant was a senior director of the Ministry who was expected to become the next Deputy Director General and who , even in his present rank , exercised influence on the department 's policy towards Scotland Yard . 
Anyhow , he thought , it would be foolish to antagonise a man who could be very awkward . 
The Commissioner of Police would not thank his staff for precipitating a conflict with a highly respected and responsible official of the Ministry of Security . 
" We seem to have gone off at a tangent , " said Rodgers . 
" If you should think of anything that will help us in the Haines case , I know you 'll give me a ring . " 
Tarrant gave a stiff bow and went out without a word . 
He felt ashamed of his behaviour . 
He knew he had made use of his position in the Ministry and his friendship with Rodgers to bulldoze his way through and that almost any other witness who had behaved so scandalously to the police would have been quickly pulled up . 
But he had to protect Sir Cedric and himself , and to find an excuse to cut the questioning short . 
It was no time to be tactful and considerate of others . 
An insulting superiority had been his best defence . 
The Yard , he reflected with satisfaction as he waited to cross the road to the Ministry , had discovered nothing about the forgery of Bianca Poravia 's papers . 
That was a weight off his mind . 
He had been prepared for Rodgers to say that the police knew of the fraudulent application and to have the file placed before his eyes with a demand for an explanation . 
That danger was not yet past , but at least for the present no one suspected him of forgery . 
But did the police really believe , he wondered again , that he might be concerned in Haines 's murder ? 
Tarrant smiled — the idea seemed too ridiculous . 
Yet the questions had seemed to him to indicate that Oxenham suspected him . 
At one time Tarrant had felt almost sure that the C.I.D . 
must have learned of his meetings with Haines and know about the blackmail . 
He had been right to deduce that , if they had done so , Rodgers would not have stopped the questioning . 
It was silly to feel indignant about being a suspect , Tarrant reminded himself , when the truth was that he might have killed Haines . 
He had intended to do so , and only his own lack of courage had made him surrender the idea . 
He had found it a disagreeable experience to have to wriggle and be wilfully obtuse and indeed engage almost in a kind of juvenile brand of impertinence , but how would it have helped the investigation if he had told the truth ? 
He could have saved the Yard trouble perhaps by disclosing that he was the source from which Haines had amassed the six hundred pounds and by identifying his father-in-law as the white-haired man who had enquired in Brighton about the blackmailer . 
But he had withheld nothing that would have assisted Scotland Yard in tracking down the murderer . 
He pondered on the significance of Sir Cedric Barker 's visit to Haines on the evening of the murder . 
The first thing to do , Tarrant decided , was to warn his father-in-law . 
He could not depend on intercepting him when he left the British Museum , and Tarrant made up his mind to wait in the office until Sir Cedric would have reached home . 
Miss Paynter came in with a pile of papers when Tarrant had seated himself at his desk , but he pushed them aside carelessly . 
When he heard that Manning wanted to see him , Tarrant shook his head but changed his mind and told Miss Paynter to ask him to come along . 
It was an effort to discuss official work but Tarrant thought that he had hidden his perturbation . 
Manning was not very observant , too wrapped up in his own affairs to pay much attention to others . 
When Manning had gone , Tarrant sent Miss Paynter home . 
He strode up and down his room until it was time for Sir Cedric to have reached his flat . 
He was relieved when he heard his father-in-law 's voice over the telephone . 
Another bout of probing by Lady Barker would have been too much to bear . 
Tarrant asked Sir Cedric to meet him and his father-in-law grudgingly agreed to have a drink in a hotel close to the Barkers ' flat . 
When he arrived at the rendezvous , Tarrant had to wait for him . 
He ordered a drink and took it to a table in a secluded corner . 
Though he told himself it was impossible that Sir Cedric could have had any part in the murder , he could not dismiss the thought from his mind . 
Tarrant remembered how close he himself had come to killing Haines . 
When he saw Sir Cedric making his leisurely way into the hotel bar , his light-coloured overcoat flapping round his legs , Tarrant jumped up and went to meet him . 
" You must get rid of that coat , " he said urgently . 
Sir Cedric stroked the material of the coat affectionately . 
" It 's got a lot of wear in it yet , " he said , " and I do n't really feel the cold . " 
Tarrant helped Sir Cedric to take off the overcoat and bundled it on the chair , with the lining turned outwards . 
When he had brought another drink , Tarrant repeated at length the exchanges which had taken place in Scotland Yard . 
Sir Cedric sat apparently unmoved , but at the close of the recital , he gave a loud chuckle . 
" You were a bit rough , " he commented . 
" I suppose it might be called bureaucratic licence . " 
"It seemed the easiest way to end the inquisition . 
You did n't tell me you had visited Haines , Cedric . " 
"I felt it better you should n't know , " said Sir Cedric defensively . 
" I hoped the police would n't question you but I foresaw the possibility . 
I did n't want them to get the information out of you , for I knew it would look suspicious . " 
"And why did you visit him on the night of the murder ? " 
Sir Cedric looked rather shamefaced . 
" I asked him his terms for keeping quiet about your forgery . " 
"But that was senseless ! 
Whatever Haines might have promised before he took your money , there was no way of making him keep his word . " 
"I was n't quite so simple , Bob . 
I told Haines that before I handed over any cash , he would need to sign a statement confessing to a crime for which he could be prosecuted . 
Then if he ever used his knowledge against you , he 'd know I could produce his confession and he 'd go to gaol . " 
Tarrant stared at his father-in-law unbelievingly . 
" You really expected him to agree to that ? " he asked . 
" I never looked on you as a romantist ! " 
"I was willing to try anything to end the threat . 
You could n't have gone on as you were doing , Bob . 
Even if Haines had kept quiet , you 'd never have known any peace and you 'd have broken within a few weeks — I could see it . 
You remember I asked you how much you would give to buy his silence and you told me almost everything you possessed . 
Well , I thought I 'd make him an offer that would tempt him . 
I told him he could have ten thousand pounds if he agreed to my terms . " 
Tarrant gave a soft whistle . 
" It would have been worth it , " he said . 
" But Haines would n't play ? " 
"I think he was tempted . 
But he was eaten up with bitterness against you and this woman Bianca . 
He raved at me as if he were unbalanced . " 
"He was a bit , you know . " 
Sir Cedric took a sip at his sherry . 
" A pity somebody saw us at Brighton , " he said . 
" The police , though , ca n't be sure or they 'd have clamped down on you . " 
"I felt they could n't be certain about my being there , but they have your description and it is n't far out . 
That coat is dangerous , Cedric . 
You must get rid of it . " 
Sir Cedric promised to carry the coat over his arm on the way home , and when he went to the British Museum on Monday . 
Then he would leave the coat in the Reading Room and let his wife believe it had been lost . 
" Best place I know to hide anything , " he pointed out . 
" I 'll stuff the coat behind a set of old religious sermons which no one ever looks at . " 
He patted the material gently . 
" I should n't like to part with it altogether . " 
If he had been asked , Tarrant would have said at once that Haines could not be bribed . 
He had seen , particularly at the last meeting with the blackmailer , that Haines was determined on revenge . 
The idea that he could be induced to accept money — even though the sum was as high as ten thousand pounds — as the price of keeping quiet was based on a complete failure to understand Jim Haines 's warped and twisted mind . 
And when Haines had rejected the proposal , what had Sir Cedric done ? 
Had he determined to kill Haines if he could not be silenced otherwise , and , when the offer of money had been rejected , had he steeled himself to murder ? 
Tarrant looked across at Sir Cedric on the other side of the table and felt a rush of affection for him . 
He realised how fantastic it was to imagine that his father-in-law could have had anything to do with so brutal a murder . 
" I 'd begun to suspect you , Cedric , " he apologised . 
" That was pretty obvious , " smiled Sir Cedric , " and I admit I once had doubts about you . 
The only thing that worries me is your forgery of the immigration papers . 
I read that someone had left a letter to be sent to the police two months after his death , and Haines may have done something of the same kind . " 
"You read the wrong sort of newspapers , Cedric , " laughed Tarrant , but he felt less confident than he sounded . 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
OXENHAM FELT incensed that Tarrant should have been treated so leniently and been permitted to dodge questions . 
The chief inspector could not argue with Commander Rodgers , but , when Tarrant had left the room , he showed his irritation at the way the interview had been conducted . 
The nose is one of the most pain-sensitive organs in the human body — and Malone was discovering the truth in scientific detail . 
Kennan had only seconds left . 
He jumped forward to the far limit of his chain , his right hand chopping edge-downwards in bone-jarring force . 
The blow took the writhing thug a fraction above the boney knob which landmarked the cervical plexus , the vital nerve-centre which a long-ago Marine instructor had declared the pinnacle of unarmed combat targets . 
The thug collapsed with a whistling moan , and Kennan tore the Luger from the man 's suddenly limp hand . 
There was no time for rejoicing , but the hard , firm shape of the automatic sent a new confidence surging through his body . 
Shouts , and the clatter of feet meant Goldie and Leo Grundy were on their way . 
Kennan pulled the manacle chain taut , and blasted two shots at the link which tied him to the ring-bolt in the rock . 
The nine-millimetre bullets smashed the chain as if it had been plastic , and , free , though the chain still dangled , he threw himself across the floor towards the entrance . 
Leo Grundy materialized there at the same second , his gun throwing down for a target . 
Kennan squeezed trigger first , and the bullet , taking the other with blasting muzzle-velocity at close range , high in the chest , smashed him back and downwards while Grundy 's shot bit splintering rock from the wall feet away , then whined in a double ricochet . 
With scrambling intensity , Kennan hurdled the man as he fell and was in the main gallery , looking for the last of the trio . 
Goldie Lord was running , back down the rock-walled corridor , past the tangle of camp-beds , stove , and collection of crates which marked their base , towards the far end of the tunnel where the lights stopped and a deep blackness marked the start of the way towards the surface . 
Kennan aimed , then lowered the gun and began sprinting instead . 
He could n't , even in his present mood , shoot the man in the back . 
For Goldie had no gun , only the open razor held in his right hand , close by his side . 
Suddenly the other man tripped and went sprawling , one foot tangled in the rubber-armoured wire which snaked across the gallery from the midget power generator . 
The lights flickered , then held steady . 
Goldie lunged to his feet again , the razor flashing in a frantic sidestroke as his pursuer loomed over him . 
Kennan threw himself to one side to avoid the slicing metal , and swung the manacle chain like a flail , reaping a bloody swathe across his opponent 's face , following it up with a blow from the gun-barrel which smashed the man 's forearm , the bone fracturing with an audible click . 
He kicked the razor clear , then stood back , panting for breath , gesturing with the long black muzzle of the Luger . 
" My turn ... get moving ... " he gasped , pointing back down the gallery . 
Tears of pain in his eyes , facial muscles quivering , Goldie rose slowly to his feet and obeyed . 
Kennan got behind him , let him reach the camp area , then smartly reversed the Luger and brought the butt down hard on the other man 's head . 
Goldie went down , jack-knifing across one of the camp-beds . 
Limping badly now — the old familiar ache in his leg started again as the tension died — Kennan heaved the man over , rummaged around the collection of boxes and crates , and found a length of cord . 
He used it to lash the man 's hands and feet together , then passed a few final turns round Goldie 's body and camp-bed frame , anchoring him securely . 
The Luger ready , he walked slowly back towards the little side-gallery which had been his prison . 
Leo Grundy was lying with his back against the rock wall , barely conscious , his face suddenly younger and frightened , breath coming in wheezing gulps . 
Kennan stepped over him , collecting the man 's gun on the way , and knelt beside Cutter Malone . 
The knifeman thug was dead . 
It was a moment or two before Kennan understood . 
The crushing blow he had landed on the man 's neck , paralysing the vital nerve centre , by fluke chance had also been hard and accurate enough to damage the delicate nervous lacework which controlled life 's respiratory action . 
Unconscious , Malone had died from lack of oxygen , just as surely as if he had been strangled . 
He felt sick . 
But there were other things to do than crouch over the probably unlamented remains of Cutter Malone . 
Kennan went back to where Leo Grundy was slumped , and eased the man back into a more comfortable position . 
Grundy 's eyes , wide and bright with fear , followed every move he made . 
The handcuff key was still in the twenty-year-old 's trouser pocket . 
With a sigh of relief , Kennan loosened the metal jaws , and massaged his red-wealed wrist . 
Now , however , he had another problem : What to do with the two surviving crooks . 
Goldie ? 
He could be discounted for some time , and his bonds should hold until he was collected by MacTaggart 's men . 
But Leo Grundy — he bent low over the younger man again . 
Leo was as vicious as they came — but in a way he was sorry it had been he who 'd stopped a bullet . 
Whatever his record , and Kennan had no illusions on that score , Leo had been the most humane of the trio towards him . 
" I 'm going to lift you and get you on to one of the beds . 
Understand ? " 
Grundy coughed , and gave a faint mumble of acknowledgement . 
He was n't heavy . 
Kennan carried him over , and laid him down on the nearest camp-bed , a pillow under his head . 
A two-gallon water-can , made of bright-red plastic , was lying near by . 
He poured some into a cup , and let the wounded man sip the liquid . 
The eyes showed something akin to gratitude . 
But the red stain on the front of Grundy 's red woollen cardigan was spreading . 
Kennan 's fingertips were stained the same colour as he unbuttoned the garment and loosened the shirt beneath . 
The Luger slug had made a neat round entry just below the collarbone . 
Easing him up , Kennan found the bullet 's exit point , a more ragged wound , in from the shoulder-blade . 
Grundy would live . 
His lung was probably nicked , but with no sign yet of blood in his mouth he seemed to have been lucky . 
" I 'm going to give you it straight , " said Kennan . 
" I 'll pad up the wound , and send help as soon as I get out . 
If you stay still , you 've a chance . 
Try getting away , and you 'll haemorrhage within a hundred yards " 
Grundy nodded . 
He found a clean shirt in a small suitcase , tore it into strips , and used the resultant rags as bandages . 
Grundy was too weak from shock and his wound to do more than watch . 
When it was done , he settled back with a sigh . 
" Answer me some questions . " 
Kennan sat on the edge of the bed , the Luger on his lap . 
" How far are we from the Polley-Bland plant ? " 
Grundy swallowed , and mumbled a reply so low and hoarse that Kennan had to strain to hear . 
" About ... about forty miles . 
We 're in South ... 
Ayrshire . 
Takes about an hour , maybe more , to ... 
Glasgow . " 
"The inside man at the plant . 
He 's an American ? " 
A nod . 
" His name ? " 
Grundy tried to turn his head away . 
But he could n't escape . 
He swallowed again . 
" Spence ... that 's what Vince Benson calls him . " 
Gene . 
Since he 'd lain chained to the rock , Kennan had realized that there was no other choice . 
But somehow he 'd kept hoping he could be wrong . 
Now , he had to face facts , and concentrate on the other important task still on hand , saving Big Betsy , the crucial item of equipment on which the Polley-Bland contract and so much more depended . 
He lit a cigarette , and put his final question . 
" How are they going to do it ? 
How do they knock out the transformer ? " 
The fear of death was large in Grundy 's eyes . 
He knew that Kennan was his only hope of getting medical attention , and by his standards it seemed logical enough that there was an unspoken threat as to the consequence of failure to answer . 
" Spence ... 
Spence did n't tell us . 
Vince knows , but he would n't talk either . " 
Grundy licked his lips , face white and desperate . 
" All I know is the time ... eleven a.m . 
Hell , Kennan , I ... 
I 'd tell you if I could . " 
Kennan tried again . 
But , his voice hoarse and weak , coupling his words with a plea for a doctor , the little crook persisted that the exact method to be used was a secret Gene Spence had refused to reveal . 
It was eight-thirty — only half an hour since the brooch and fish hook trap had sprung . 
Time enough , Kennan knew , but leaving nothing to spare . 
There was a storm lantern lying among the clutter of stores , and he picked it up , took a last look around the underground gallery , sniffing the faint odour of gunsmoke still lingering in the air , then headed towards the black of the tunnel to the surface . 
Compared with the main gallery , the ventilation tunnel was smaller and narrow . 
Even with the wavering beam of the storm light , he more than once bumped his head on the two hundred yard trip along the shaft 's rough , rising surface towards ground level . 
The last fifty yards or so was at an upward angle of almost forty-five degrees . 
Then he was at the heavy door at the shaft entrance . 
For a moment , staring at it , he thought he 'd have to go back and try to find a key . 
But Benson had obviously decided he 'd never be locked in from the inside . 
There was a simple handle mechanism which governed the massive lock . 
The door swung wide , and he was free , in the open , standing in the clean fresh air , the sun shining above , the soft , still dew-moist grass springy underfoot . 
A curlew rose from a patch of heather only feet away and soared skywards , giving its distinctive " pee-wit " cry . 
He felt like laughing and crying , both at the same time . 
And in the middle distance , the narrow tarmac ribbon of a road cut across the dark green of the moorland . 
Kennan dragged a heavy boulder over to the shaft doorway , placing it in such a way that the door could n't swing shut . 
Then , shoving the Luger into the waistband of his trousers , he set off for the road . 
Half a mile along the road , after tossing a coin and electing to take the left-hand direction , he managed to thumb a lift . 
The driver of the farm tractor had taken some convincing when he first saw the ragged , blood-stained tramp waving from the roadside . 
But Kennan still had his wallet , and money . 
The tractor , its fare-paying passenger perched precariously behind the driver , roared along the country highway at full throttle , and after about a mile swung into a small plantation of fir trees . 
The farmhouse was in the middle . 
More explanations , considerably complicated by the fact that he had to explain the gun in his waistband while the farmer 's wife held an old-fashioned single-barrelled shotgun pointed at his midriff , finally ended with him being allowed to use the farmhouse phone . 
While he waited for the operator at police head-quarters in Glasgow to locate Superintendent MacTaggart , Kennan asked his audience : " What 's the name of this place ? " 
The farmer 's wife , the shotgun now laid against the table but still near at hand , told him . 
" Aultdonald . 
About three miles out o' Cumnock , mister . " 
In her broad Ayrshire dialect she demanded in turn , " are you one of them Americans from the air base at Prestwick ? " 
He shook his head , and turned back to the phone as MacTaggart 's voice crackled over the wire . 
" Where the hell have you been , Kennan ? " barked the policeman . 
" I 've had a full scale search going on for you for almost twenty-four hours now . 
The American Embassy 's been howling that you 've got to be found , the Home Office joining in the chorus , and I 've been left holding the baby . 
What happened ? " 
Kennan told him as crisply as possible , conscious of the open-mouth attention of the two other people in the farmhouse kitchen . 
" Well , what do you think ? " she scoffed , her brilliant eyes challenging him . 
He made no answer . 
There was nothing to be said . 
He lifted his glass and drained it , feeling the sweat breaking out on the palms of his hands . 
When at last he looked up she was standing right in front of him , smiling as if nothing had happened ! 
He could hardly believe it and blinked several times . 
" Well , do n't I get a drink tonight ? " she asked boldly . 
" Of course ... anything you like " , he murmured , relief flooding over him . 
" Kitty ... 
I 'm sorry .... " 
His throat went tight and words failed him . 
" Aw , forget it " , she said cheerfully . 
" I 'll sting you for a double for being a naughty boy . 
How about the telly tomorrow afternoon ? " 
He felt a glow of happiness steal over him . 
Everything was all right now , thank God . 
She was n't going to break with him , after all . 
For the moment it was the only thing in the world that mattered . 
" Of course , Kitty " , he said fervently , his eyes misty behind their thick lenses . 
" Well , I 'll be off now . 
See you tomorrow ... and thank you .... " 
"So long , Bob " , she said , waving her hand to him . 
Harry followed him to the door , opened it for him and stood outside on the step , looking up at the sky , where a few pale stars shone between puffs of light cumulus cloud . 
" Nice night " , he remarked affably . 
" But they forecast rain for tomorrow . " 
"Do they ? " 
Bone glanced up at the sky , his thoughts elsewhere . 
Personally , he did n't care if it rained cats and dogs and he knew that Harry did n't either . 
He waited , pulling on his gloves and adjusting his hat . 
" Look , Bob , " Harry began , after a brief silence , " I do n't mean to butt in , but if you take my advice you 'll 'ave no more truck with 'er . " 
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder . 
" That girl 's nothing but a load of trouble , I 'm warning you . " 
"Kitty 's all right " , Bone contradicted flatly . 
" It 's her boy-friend that 's the trouble . 
If we could get rid of him ... " 
Harry nodded his grizzled head like an old hound . 
" You 're right there , Bob " , he muttered . 
" But it 's easier said than done . 
Kitty encourages him , too . 
No work , no background , no regular money so far as I can make out . 
Probably on the crook . 
But there you are , the girl 's wild and headstrong . 
I ca n't do nothing with 'er . " 
"Do n't worry , Harry " , the other said quietly . 
" I wo n't make a fool of myself . 
Kitty needs a good friend and I 'll always be that . " 
He paused , hatred of Stevie Hewitt rising like gall in his throat . 
" And I 'll find a way of getting rid of that chap , Hewitt , too . 
Leave it to me . " 
"O.K. , Bob , but watch your step . 
He 's a tough customer , mark my words " , Harry said in a low voice . 
Bone half smiled in the darkness . 
" I 'll remember " , he said . 
" Good night , Harry . " 
"Good night , Bob . " 
Bone walked down the road , his cre5pe-soled shoes making no sound on the asphalt surface . 
As he walked he concentrated on the problem of Stevie Hewitt . 
By comparison with the manner in which he had dispatched Henry Mansell the elimination of a little spiv from Brighton seemed an easy undertaking ... once he 'd set his mind to it . 
Back at the cottage he prepared his supper and ate it beside the fire in the living-room , his thoughts once more on Kitty . 
If she was really in love with Stevie Hewitt it was madness to go on worrying about her , he told himself moodily . 
Yet it was not as clear-cut as that . 
He not only felt his need of her but was equally aware of the necessity to help and protect her , even against her will . 
Tonight , for the first time , he had abandoned all pretence and shown her the honest desperation of his feeling for her . 
She had neither encouraged nor completely rejected him . 
In some perverse way their brief quarrel had forged a bond between them . 
No doubt she had every intention of keeping both of them on a string . 
On the whole he probably had a slight advantage over the young man , inasmuch as he had money to spend and she was a girl who had a healthy respect for the material things of life . 
Towards eleven o'clock he locked up , turned out the light in the sitting-room , and went up to his bedroom . 
For several minutes he stared at his reflection in the oval mirror on the top of the chest . 
The toupe2e undoubtedly improved his appearance and made him look ten years younger . 
His skin was a healthier colour and he had put on half a stone in the last few months , filling out the hollows in his cheeks and giving him a more rounded appearance . 
But he was still no sort of match for a young and virile competitor and he knew it . 
He turned away and begun to undress , shivering with the cold . 
His eye automatically glanced towards the panel which concealed the hiding-place of his secret treasure . 
For an instant he stood transfixed to the floor , his eyes unwavering as they riveted themselves on the wall . 
Was it his imagination or was the panel slightly lop-sided ? 
Leaping forward with a choked sound he grasped the oblong panel and pulled it out . 
The black tin box was exactly as he had left it . 
With heavily beating heart he reached out and lifted the lid . 
Everything was intact and he gasped with relief . 
He lifted out the heavy bundles of notes and knelt on the floor to count them . 
Of course , he remembered being in a great hurry to get that fifty pounds for Kitty ! 
Obviously he had been careless in replacing the panel , but the possibility of anyone having discovered his hiding-place gave him something of a shock . 
As he replaced the bundles of notes , he withdrew the tin box from its hiding-place and locked it inside the cupboard . 
It would be safer under lock and key for the time being than behind a piece of panelling which did not fit very securely . 
Tomorrow he would buy a heavy padlock for the box and search for a new hiding-place . 
He lay in bed , cold and uneasy , unable to account for an instinctive sense of danger . 
When he closed his eyes it was Henry Mansell 's face he saw , hovering above his head like a hideous caricature . 
The parrot nose and straight line of the mouth , the pitiless blue eyes that seemed to strip him right down to his abjectly quaking bones . 
The mouldering horror that had once been Henry Mansell taunted him now in the silent darkness . 
2 
In a corner of the saloon bar of the Six Bells at Hawkeshurst that Friday night Hugh Mansell and Roddy Dowell drank their beer and waited . 
" It 's too damn busy in here . 
We ca n't expect him to leave his customers " , Hugh said morosely . 
" Give him a chance , old chap . 
He 'll be over . 
Jim 's a most reliable chap when it comes to picking up a small tip . " 
"O.K. , Roddy , whatever you say . " 
Hugh drained his glass and ordered two more beers . 
" I 'm really beginning to feel it 's all a bit of a waste of time , anyway . 
I 've been collecting scraps of evidence and piecing them together for four months now , and the whole lot still does n't amount to anything one could call concrete . " 
Roddy puffed at his pipe , his eyes fixed on the white-coated barman . 
" Oh , I think it does , Hugh . 
That 's why I want you to meet this bird . 
I think he fills in an important part of the background . 
Furthermore , dear boy , it confirms what we already know of your father 's intention to leave the country on the night of October 14th . " 
Hugh nodded . 
His face wore the melancholy expression that was habitual to him but his eyes showed his inner excitement . 
" I know , but from the moment he walked out of here we have n't a shred of evidence to prove what happened . 
Obviously he met someone , either by chance or by arrangement . 
Whichever way it was , that person had a gun and he managed to persuade Father to drive along that quiet stretch of road .... " 
"Miles off his proper route to Dover or the airport at Lydd " , Roddy interposed quickly . 
" And once there he was shot at close range and his money smartly filched . 
You know , whoever it was might have known of the existence of the suicide letter ... providing him with an almost unshakable alibi . " 
Hugh was thinking of his uncle , but said nothing . 
After all , Julian had acted very strangely since the tragedy , always secretive , always reluctant to discuss his brother 's death . 
It was impossible to associate him in one 's mind with a cold-blooded murder but , in fact , Henry Mansell 's death had saved the firm and Julian 's future . 
Moreover he might well have been aware of his brother 's intention to skip out of the country and passed on the information . 
" I 'm sure you 're right " , Hugh said thoughtfully . 
" But whoever did it got clean away without being spotted . " 
"Easy enough along that stretch of coast road in winter , believe me " , Roddy affirmed solemnly . 
" He probably caught the next boat across the channel and has been lying low with the money somewhere . " 
Hugh nodded . 
" I realized that after my talk with Mrs. Lawford . 
There are a dozen countries where a man could easily hide up and change the money without danger . 
Unless we can get a definite line on him it 's hopeless .... " 
"Something will turn up one day , you 'll see " , Roddy said confidently . 
" If we plug away at the leads we have .... " 
"If only the police would do something ... " 
Hugh cried out in exasperation . 
" I 've put everything I know before them .... " 
"No dice , Hugh . " 
Roddy shook his sandy head . 
" They 're bound to want pretty solid new evidence before they 'll agree to reopen the case . 
From their point of view the evidence for suicide is overwhelming . 
I spoke to a chap from the office of the Director of Public Prosecutions I know pretty well , and he agreed that the missing cash is a hell of a mystery . 
But as he quite reasonably pointed out the money could have been disposed of in London before your father left that evening . 
It would n't be unnatural for a man in his position to make provision for an unknown dependent or settle what he regarded as particular debts of honour before taking his own life . 
Also , logically , there 's nothing to show the money could n't have been pinched by someone passing the car after your father was dead . 
Stealing from cars is about the commonest kind of crime in the book . 
There 's nothing that absolutely ties the missing money to the circumstances of your father 's death , that 's the point . 
Same with the passport . 
It 's gone and that 's that . 
It may turn up in a dustbin somewhere or at the back of a drawer . 
As far as the police are concerned there 's nothing to go on . 
In our own minds we may be pretty sure what happened , but that 's not good enough for them . 
That suicide letter did the trick — definite proof that your father took his life , backed by medical evidence and the fingerprint chaps . " 
A little man with thin brown hair and a ruddy complexion came over and greeted them . 
He wore a short white coat . 
Hugh ordered drinks . 
" I was sorry to read about your dad in the paper " , the man said to Hugh in a thick voice which bore traces of a cockney accent . 
" I was telling your friend how he come in here the very night he passed away . " 
Hugh was n't impressed with this ingratiating barman whom Roddy had raked up . 
He was seedy and middle-aged with small black eyes set close together beneath heavily marked brows and a sly , crafty expression that failed to inspire confidence . 
" He was hitting the bottle pretty hard , sir ... " the man said in a loud whisper . 
" Meaning no offence " , he added , looking at Hugh . 
What had he really wanted to see ? 
A copy of Hilary 's will ? 
That was n't impossible , though unpleasant to contemplate . 
A young man of his ideas might feel he was entitled to know what provision had been made for Hilary 's daughter , in the event of Hilary 's death . 
Now that Rose was dead , the picture had changed substantially . 
There would be no one to share the vast fortune with Lisabelle . 
She would be the sole beneficiary , in the normal course of events , which would make her a very rich young woman indeed . 
" Sorry I was so long , " Peter 's voice made Mary jump guiltily . 
" I tried my hand at that cheese concoction I remembered you liked . 
And heated up some soup . 
You deserve better than a cold snack . " 
He placed an appetizingly set tray on the cleared end of the long table . 
He had not only taken a great deal of trouble on her behalf , but had foreseen exactly the kind of food that would appeal to her . 
Beyond this there was such charming friendliness in his manner , he was such an attractive looking fair-haired young man , his eyes so blue in his tanned face , it was difficult to steel herself against him . 
But charm and good looks and attentiveness in small ways were qualities essential to the fortune hunter . 
They bore no relation to trustworthiness or character . 
Nor did Peter 's gift for companionable silence , grateful though she was not to be forced to make conversation . 
She heard the door open , heard the rustle of silk just as Peter picked up the tray with the empty dishes . 
He stood quite still . 
When he spoke it was with an eloquent , far-from-Old-World , " Wow ! " 
Lisabelle 's cheeks were almost the colour of the watermelon pink silk as she presented herself for Mary 's inspection . 
The dress itself , the unusual care she 'd taken to arrange her smooth black hair , the lipstick and powder she 'd put on with surprising skill had transformed her . 
She had become a beauty . 
She knew it , and the knowledge transformed her . 
" I did n't dream clothes could make so much difference , " she said . 
" You 'll have to buy all my clothes for me ! 
Although , " she added ruefully , " I do n't know where I 'd wear them . 
Where I 'll even wear this . " 
"In New York , when you 're staying with me . " 
The opportunity was Heaven-sent . 
" Look , Lisabelle , you 're to go back with me next week , I 'll guarantee you 'll have a good time . " 
"I 'd adore to go . " 
Lisabelle 's eyes shone like stars . 
" Then we 're all set . 
The job here ought to be finished in a matter of days . 
We 'll ring up the airport in the morning and get our reservations . 
Luckily I have a guest room in my apartment — a tiny one , but you wo n't mind . " 
"" Mind " ? 
It would be bliss . " 
Then the sparkle in her green eyes vanished . 
The excitement ebbed . 
She said with the quiet of despair , " But I ca n't leave Dad . " 
Peter moved resolutely off with the tray . 
Mary picked up a cigarette and lighted it , without speaking . 
Lisabelle glanced appealing down at her . 
" You do understand , do n't you ? " 
"Of course I understand , lambie , " Mary said . 
She raised her arms , and for the first time Lisabelle leaned down and gave her a real kiss . 
Chapter 29 
SUNDAY was another golden day of sunshine . 
A day when every instinct rebelled against staying indoors . 
The chances were , she would n't get the telephone call until tomorrow , at the earliest , Mary thought . 
But there was a dynamic quality about James Danford that made anything possible . 
At 10 o'clock Mary reluctantly rose from the canvas chair outside her door , where she 'd been basking in the sun , and went across the court garden to the living-room . 
She found that the last person in the world with whom she would willingly have shared this tense period of waiting was ensconced there . 
Dora May was settled in a comfortable upholstered chair , Sunday newspapers strewn all around her on the floor . 
Her feet , in high-heeled pink linen sandals , were resting on an upholstered stool . 
She was dressed entirely in pink . 
The black of mourning for Rose had been quickly discarded , but not the air of importance that had been imparted by the legacy Rose had left her . 
" I 'm waiting to see Cousin Hilary , " she said . 
" I brought out the mail while I was about it . 
There are four letters for you . 
They do n't look very exciting , though . " 
Mary sat down in the desk chair , her back turned to Dora May 's gaze , while she opened the letters . 
They were not , as she 'd judged , very exciting . 
Mary was reading the one from her assistant a second time , when Dora May 's flat nasal voice broke in . 
" A little bird told me you had a real long visit with Manuel night before last . " 
Mary put all her letters into her purse , rose without haste and moved towards the fireplace . 
Despite the warmth outside it was cool in here and the fire was welcome . 
She tossed the envelopes onto the blaze , stood watching them a moment . 
Somehow she must manage to cope with this wretched creature with the tight blonde curls , whose every word and gesture irritated her almost beyond endurance . 
There was no hope of dislodging her ; she was rooted here . 
Nor could any power on earth stop her from talking . 
Mary realized that the part of wisdom was to accept the situation without further protest , and , if possible , extract some benefit from it . 
After all , Dora May had been a member of this household for a good many years . 
She must possess information that would be of value . 
Even the least observant person would have learned a vast amount ; and she possessed abnormal curiosity . 
The difficulty was not in getting her to talk , Heaven knew , but in diverting her talk into channels of potential usefulness . 
" There 's no knowing when Hilary will be back , " Mary said . 
" There is nothing for me to do but loaf and wait for a long distance call about some materials I need . " 
It seemed sensible to slip this in . 
" So , if I could be of any help ? " 
"I do n't see how . 
What I want is for Cousin Hilary to advance me the money Rose left me in her will . " 
"No , I could hardly do that . 
Twenty-five thousand dollars is a large sum . 
Although to Hilary , of course , it 's peanuts . " 
"That 's what you think . " 
The glint in Dora May 's cold blue eyes was a signpost the least discerning could follow . 
" I 'm positive , " Mary said firmly , " that twenty-five thousand dollars does n't mean any more to Hilary than twenty-five cents would to me . " 
"Then why has he mortgaged this ranch ? " 
Dora May 's voice was shrill with triumph . 
" Borrowed every penny he could get against the land , and the cattle and equipment , too ? 
Just tell me that , if you know so much about his affairs . " 
"I do n't need to know much about Hilary 's affairs to know he 's one of the richest men in the state , " Mary said . 
" You must have been misinformed about his borrowing money . " 
She sat down on the sofa as if dismissing the whole subject , picked up one of the papers from the floor and pretended interest in its headlines . 
Dora May rose to the bait . 
" Hilary 's lawyer 's secretary is a close personal friend of mine . 
I guess she 's not misinformed about documents she drew up herself ! 
And came out here with the notary and signed as witness , the very afternoon of Rose 's funeral . " 
"More trouble in Africa . " 
Mary kept her eyes on the newspaper . 
" Oh , sorry , Dora May ... you said something about documents ? " 
She looked up , thinking , with wicked amusement , I could n't blame her if she slapped me ! then shrank within herself for a moment , as the wrath in Dora May 's voice made that outcome not impossible . 
" You need n't high-hat me ! 
I 'm trying to tell you something for your own good — if you ever want to get paid for what you 're doing here ! 
And I 'll tell you something else . 
You can put it in your pipe and smoke it . 
So long as Rose was alive Hilary could n't have mortgaged everything he owned without her consent . 
And she would n't have given it ... 
Maybe she 'd be alive today if she 'd been willing to . " 
"That 's crazy ! " 
Mary declared , but she could n't hide her sense of shock . 
Dora May was gratified . 
" You know as well as I do Rose did n't kill herself . 
Why did you go to Dr. Summersby 's office and ask him about those pain-killers of Hilary 's if you did n't suspicion something ? " 
On guard now , Mary resorted to counter-attack . 
" Oh , I remember . 
You said once that Dr. Summersby 's nurse is a friend of yours , too , " 
" We went to school together . " 
"And the good doctor tells her everything ? " 
"Well , no . 
Not exactly . 
He has one of those dictaphone things so she can keep a record of what his patients say . 
I guess he forgot to turn it off when you were there . " 
Mary 's mind flashed back to her interview with Dr. Summersby . 
Just what had she said in the so-called privacy of his office ? 
She 'd asked for the English valet 's address , asked if she could go to the hospital to see Manuel . 
Spoken of Hilary 's plans for a festive wedding for Manuel and Sarita . 
What else that Dora May 's bird-brain could fasten on ? 
Or , was it such a bird-brain ? 
Was she inventing this fantasy of Hilary 's desperate need for money ? 
The details had sounded disturbingly convincing . 
Hilary was no niggardly gambler . 
It could easily be all or nothing with him . 
It was possible that the notary might have come out the afternoon of the funeral . 
Lisabelle and Peter and she had been riding and away from the house for hours . 
" I certainly could n't have given Dr. Summersby the impression that I thought Hilary had anything to do with Rose 's death , " Mary said . 
" The question that bothered me was why she should have taken her own life , if she did take it deliberately , when she had so much to look forward to . 
I know all about the man in Dallas . 
I think she would have been very happy if eventually she 'd married him . 
As she deserved to be happy . " 
Dora May looked up . 
Again she astonished Mary . 
There were tears in her eyes . 
They were , however , tears of self-pity , "She was the only friend I had at the ranch . 
She knew what it was to be an outsider ... 
" I 'm sure Rose knew that Hilary was going bankrupt , " she said , with another startling shift of mood . 
" I think that 's why she left her jewellery to Lisabelle . 
Not that I mean to complain . 
Not little old me . 
I just do n't understand it , that 's all . " 
She swung her pink sandals off the footrest , got to her feet ; elaborately smoothing the pink linen over her rounded hips , patting her tight blonde curls . 
" If Rose had made that will after we had words , I would n't have blamed her . 
But she did n't . 
She made it while everything was fine between us . " 
So Dora May had quarrelled with Rose ! 
This was a new angle to be explored . 
Had Dora May tried to blackmail her ? 
Mary took a chance . 
" She probably did n't think you 'd really tell Hilary about the man in Dallas . " 
Dora May pressed her lips , making a small red pucker in her over-powdered face . 
Her eyes were wary . 
Obviously she was wondering whether denial would do any good , since she had no way of knowing whether or not Hilary had confided in Mary . 
Never had Mary thought the day would come when Dora May 's silence would be unwelcome . 
Now , as she remained silent , Mary could have shaken her . 
" Is it your considered opinion , " she said at last , " that Hilary was responsible for Rose 's death ? " 
"Goodness gracious no ! 
And do n't you dare put words into my mouth . " 
"I do n't know how else to interpret what you said , " Mary kept her voice calmly reasonable . 
" You claim Rose would never have consented to Hilary 's borrowing the money he needed . 
You said that if Rose would have consented , she might be alive today . 
What other construction can I put on it ? " 
People were n't enemies . 
They wanted to help . 
When they 'd reached the house she 'd been swept inside to meet a circle of faces and eyes and reaching hands , but it had n't been for her . 
She 'd stood there , invisible . 
The eyes and the hands and the quick voices had all been for the baby . 
That was how it had been , and afterwards , too . 
Someone had brought her up and gone straight away again , to the room next door . 
Where the baby was . 
She 'd heard voices in there for a long time . 
Even now , if she went close to the communicating door , she could hear faint voices the other side . 
She wanted desperately to turn the flower-painted china knob on the apple-green door , and go through , but somehow she could n't . 
She had a dreadful feeling that if she did she 'd find she was really and truly invisible ; that eyes would look through her , and steps go past and no one would see or hear her at all . 
She thought desperately , I 'm going crazy , then turned sharply towards the other door — the one leading out to the wide , white-painted corridor . 
She called , " Come in " and the door opened , to release bright electric light into the twilighted room . 
It bounced in , scattering gay colour into the carpeted floor . 
A grey ghost followed it . 
That was what the figure looked like . 
Grey and blurred . 
Hastily Lea groped for her glasses again , and the ghost became a plump , grey-haired woman in a grey pleated skirt and grey jumper . 
One of the people who 'd been downstairs in the hall . 
She did n't know which one . 
All the names and distinctions had been jumbled up in her mind . 
The grey woman seemed to know that , because she explained now , " I 'm Abby Paladrey — Mort 's sister , just in case you did n't get things clear when we were introduced . " 
"How ... how do you do ? " 
Lea rose stiffly , jerkily from the window seat , striving to brush some of the creases from the cheap blue linen of her skirt . 
She wished that she 'd started to tidy up and had n't been found like this — a mess . 
She knew that was how she appeared . 
She 'd seen herself in the mirror coming up the stairs and she 'd looked terrible . 
All eyes and white hollow face and cheap , crumpled clothes . 
" Are you comfortable ? " 
Abby Paladrey asked , her bright gaze going from Lea to the shabby suitcase by the bed . 
" Not unpacked ? 
I 'll send Edith up to help you then . 
That 's Edith Camm . 
Our housemaid . 
A good worker , even if she is silly about boys , or rather just one boy . 
She 's determined to get married and leave , young as she is . 
They 're all too independent these days . 
Mrs. Stewart too . 
That 's our daily , Rita Stewart . 
She 's a widow . " 
She hesitated , as though expecting that Lea would break her silence . 
When she did n't , she went on in her brisk , clackety voice , that reminded Lea of nothing so much as a childhood memory of the boy next door playing with a morse set . 
Clack , clack , clackety , clack . 
It was just the same . 
" It 's not like the old days at all . 
In a place like this there would have been two housemaids at least and a cook and a girl for the kitchen and maybe more , but now it 's get what you can and be thankful for that . 
Why , I remember , even at home when I was small there was a woman full time and another for the washing and the rough work and we never had money or much , but even in Wales it 's all changed . " 
The words had been flowing over Lea . 
Like the sea . 
Going in and out . 
Softly , pleasantly . 
Lulling her . 
Then there was the big wave of surprise and she jerked . 
" Wales ! 
I thought you were Americans . " 
Miss Paladrey looked equally surprised . 
Her rosebud mouth went into a perfect crumpled O. She answered , " No . 
That is , Babby is , of course , and Honor . 
And Eddie was . " 
Her plump bosom went up , and down , just like a billowing wave , before she went on explaining , " They all came from America . 
Babba married when she was sixteen , which was worse than Edith , but there — they all seem to do it over there . 
That was to Ed Anwood , but he died years back and then came the day young Eddie got his draft papers , as they call them . 
He should have had them before , only he hurt his shoulder at football or somesuch and there was a long time spent in treatment , so it was all deferred , but finally he went . 
Into the Air Force , that was , and next thing they sent him over here to work out his spell of duty . 
So Babba packed up and followed . 
Of course she came to see Ian and his father . 
The old gentleman was dying then and when Babba made him an offer he said yes . " 
"An offer ? " 
Lea was beginning to feel dizzy . 
" For the place . 
You 've no idea , looking at it now , what it was like then . 
So Babby says , anyway . 
Even when we came it was different to now . 
Babba 's just poured money into it . " 
She was suddenly silent . 
Lea saw with surprise that the rosebudy mouth was no longer a bud . 
It was thin and straight and tight . 
Then abruptly it relaxed . 
The bright little eyes looked into hers and the clackety-clack continued as though the break had never been . 
" Ian had to agree to the sale because it was the only thing to do , things being as they were . 
So Babba moved in and Ian took over managing the place for her . 
" And that was when Mort and I came into the picture . 
As I said , we were brought up in Wales . 
Our father was a songster . 
Lloyd Paladrey . " 
She was silent again ; expectant . 
Lea said with embarrassment , " I do n't know much about music . " 
"Oh well , " Abby did n't seem discouraged , " he was too much of a dreamer ever to do any good . 
People used him as they liked and he never seemed to get more than a penny or two out of it . 
Later on Mort and I came to London and he made a good little packet for himself . 
I kept house for him and things were just perfect , Mrs. Beverly . 
Then we went for a touring holiday . 
A coach trip , all over the place , with a group , and one day we finished up at a castle . 
Babba was there , sight-seeing with Eddie , who was on leave . 
She 'd bought this place by then and had settled in and she asked us to come and see it . 
She made a lot of jokes about it being an ancient monument she 'd restored for England . 
" Well Mort fell for her and that was that . " 
She made a little gesture of her plump hands , and the pouter bosom billowed again . 
Lea thought , she said things had been perfect . 
She did n't add it to present events . 
She looked into the bright eyes , but they were expressionless . 
Almost apologetically , Abby added , " I seem to have talked enough , but I wanted to put you straight about everyone in the house . 
You looked dazed down there in the hall , as though things were too much to take in . " 
Lea thought warmly , so I was n't invisible to one person anyway . 
She felt swift gratitude towards the plump , chattering woman . 
" I was dazed , " she admitted . 
Abby nodded vehemently , " Just like a Ferris Wheel , I should think . 
Honor made me go on one once at a fair and I 've never forgotten . 
Up and down and round and round and never getting to any place and then leaving you that dizzy ... " 
Lea repeated dully , " A Ferris Wheel , " and shivered ; remembered a long-ago scene . 
She 'd been tiny then . 
Her parents had taken her to a fair and there had been a wheel , a great sparred skeleton of bright red against the evening sky . 
It had gone round and round and then people had been screaming and the wheel had come slowly apart and had ... 
Crash ! 
She was back in the nightmare . 
She came out tearingly , to hear Abby saying brightly , " But you 'll be all right now . " 
Will I ? 
Lea wondered . 
I doubt it . 
Unconsciously her gaze went to the other door . 
Everything now seemed silent beyond it . 
Abby had n't followed the direction of the girl 's gaze . 
She was saying , " So do you know who everyone is now ? 
Honor was the tall fair girl and you know Ian , and ... " 
Lea spoke without thinking . 
She asked , " What does Ian think of being just a servant here now — in his old home ? " 
Abby seemed to answer without thought , too . 
She said , " Oh he hates it , and us . " 
CHAPTER FOUR 
Lea woke to the certain knowledge that something unpleasant was to be faced . 
She lay still , staring upwards at the ceiling . 
There was a shadow on it just over her head . 
She tried to make out what it was , then rolled over and sat up , reaching for her glasses . 
The shadow resolved itself into a large brown moth . 
It looked alien in the carefully decorated pastel bedroom . 
Like I do , Lea thought and glanced across at the communicating door . 
She slid softly from the bed , padding over the thick carpet , hesitating , then turned the china door-knob and went into the other room , a too-thin figure in the fragile blue nylon nightgown . 
The baby was still asleep . 
As always , when she looked at him , she tried to trace some resemblance to herself in his tiny features , but there was nothing . 
Standing there , she told herself she had much to be glad for . 
She had warmth and shelter and food and comfort . 
And apparent friendship . 
At dinner the previous evening Babba had been friendly ; had striven to make the stranger a part of the household . 
So had Abby , with her constant stream of chatter , about the dairy herd of Fen House , about the Fens themselves , about their neighbours . 
Lea remembered that Mort Paladrey had put an end to that , when he 'd interrupted one cheerfully scandalous anecdote with a terse , "That 's libel . 
Is n't so . 
You 're a mean-minded gossiping old woman . " 
Abby 's putty-blob of a nose had turned red . 
For a moment Lea had feared a scene , then Abby had laughed ; had turned the talk to something else . 
Lea was not sure of Mort Paladrey . 
Short and rotund , with thinning grey hair and ruddy face , out of which two surprisingly blue eyes stared at the world about him , he had n't said much and nothing at all to Lea — not after the first greeting and later , when Babba had shooed her upstairs , he 'd said goodnight . 
Ian had said very little and Honor had just sat there , eating a little , smoking a lot , never even seeming to gaze at the guest , but always , when Lea looked away from her , she had the impression that Honor 's grey eyes went straight to her face . 
That had been one of the uncomfortable things . 
Another had been Jean McLone 's firm , " The baby 's asleep , Mrs. Beverly . 
I would n't go into his room now . " 
Lea knew she should have held her ground . 
Gone in . 
But she had n't . 
Something inside her had curled up in panic and she 'd said something vague and gone to bed without seeing the baby at all . 
That had been wrong and she 'd wondered if downstairs they would comment on it and say she did n't seem to love the baby . 
She wondered if they would n't be right . 
She was acting selfishly , denying the baby a name — but perhaps she was giving him more than a name . 
He had security , comfort , for a little at least . 
Far more than ever she could hope to give him . 
She did n't dare think ahead , to the day when she would have to tell about Arthur , confess she 'd preyed on these people , for the sake of a few months of comfort . 
She 'd been mad to come and yet ... 
There 'd been one more uncomfortable thing , too , before she 'd fallen asleep . 
Edith Camm coming into the bedroom just after Lea had slipped between the sheets — apple-green sheets that matched the walls and had made Lea feel as though she was part of a great apple-green meringue . 
" I 'm very grateful to you . " 
"You need n't be . 
I told you , I 'm glad to do it . " 
I was touched and flattered by his manner , which was most attractive in its friendliness . 
As I said , I do not make friends easily ; my defences go up at the first sign of intimacy and when people realise this , they withdraw . 
This young man was ignoring the defences and I liked him for it . 
It did not occur to me until a long time afterwards that he was , perhaps , a shade too friendly . 
Now all I had to do was to tell Max and that , I knew , was going to be difficult . 
He called for me soon after I got back to the flat and I made him wait until I had a quick bath and changed into a white linen dress . 
There must have been something about my appearance that he found disturbing because he looked at me as though seeing me for the first time . 
" That was worth waiting for , " he said . 
" You must be the freshest thing in London . " 
"The water was cold , " I told him . 
" It nearly always is . " 
His fingers lightly brushed something — powder perhaps — from my cheek . 
" Cold water suits you . 
Do n't complain . " 
"I was n't going to , " I said . 
" I sha n't be here much longer . " 
"I know . 
You 're coming to Greece with me . " 
I moved away . 
" No , Max . 
At least not yet . 
There 's something I 've got to do first . " 
"Of course , the trousseau . " 
He was refusing to take me seriously . 
" Tell me about it while we eat . " 
He chose a Greek restaurant in Soho , to get me used to the food , he said . 
It was a quiet place and I was glad ; I needed to be able to talk . 
As soon as the meal was ordered I said : "I went back to Bletcham today . " 
"To Bletcham ? " 
The word was heavily underlined with surprise . 
" I thought we 'd finished with all that . " 
"I was afraid you 'd think so , but I 've only just started . 
I 'm going to buy a boat and moor it near Hardy 's house , " I rushed on . 
" I 'm going to find out everything I can about him . " 
"Why ? " 
The question took me by surprise . 
" Because , " I said impatiently , " he may be the man who murdered Alice . " 
"And what if he is ? 
He 'll be tried — if you can prove anything — and you 'll be a witness . 
You surely do n't want to drag the whole thing up again . " 
"If he 's guilty I 'll go through anything to get him convicted . " 
"Why ? " he asked again . 
" I can tell by your voice that it means a lot to you , but I 'm damned if I can see the reason . 
It 's not as if you were all that fond of Alice . " 
He was interrupted by the arrival of the food and wine . 
When the pouring ritual was over he went on : " I 'm as keen as the next man on justice being done and all the rest of it , but I 'd rather see you happy . " 
"There wo n't be any happiness for me until I can prove him guilty . " 
"You 're already certain that he did it , are n't you ? " 
"Not quite . 
Well — yes , perhaps I am , " I admitted . 
" I have to be . 
If he did n't do it it must have been — " 
" Must have been who ? " 
Max prompted . 
I looked into his eyes and longed with all my heart to tell him , but I could not do it . 
As long as my suspicion remained in my head I could pretend to myself , in moments of optimism , that it was not true . 
If I told Max he might agree with me and then I could no longer pretend . 
" It could have been anyone , " I said lamely . 
" So you 're going to live in this boat , though you know nothing about boats , and try to prove Hardy 's guilt so we can be quite sure that " anyone " — " there was a glint of humour in his eyes as he said the word — " that " anyone " was innocent . 
If you 're right , you may be in serious danger from Hardy . 
Even if you 're wrong you 'll most certainly be in danger when you start handling a boat . " 
He picked up his glass and held it in both hands , looking at me thoughtfully over the top of it . 
" No , " he said at last . 
" I ca n't allow it . " 
"You ca n't very well stop me . " 
"I can do better than that . 
If we were to get married now I could come with you . " 
I looked down at my plate , not daring to let him see how much the idea appealed to me , reminding myself that he could only have said such a thing because he did not know the whole truth . 
" And I ca n't allow that , " I said . 
" Deadlock , " said Max . 
" No , it is n't . 
I 'm determined to go , and by myself , whatever you say . " 
"I was afraid of that . " 
He sounded resigned but none the less hopeful . 
" You 're a very wilful woman but I 'll change your mind for you one of these days . 
The thing is : when ? 
I ca n't wait for ever , you know . " 
"I know . 
Just give me a little time , Max , say three months . 
If I have n't discovered anything by then I 'll give up trying . " 
"And marry me ? " 
"And marry you . " 
CHAPTER SIX 
THE MAN from the newspaper office rang up two days later . 
He gave his name as Clive Mortimer and pronounced favourably on the boat , which was moored two miles up the river from Bletcham . 
" You can see it any time you like , " he told me . 
" The sooner the better . 
If you can get to Bletcham this evening I 'll run you up there in the car . " 
"That 's very nice of you . " 
"Nice , nothing . 
I told you , I 'm mad about boats . 
Seven thirty do you ? 
I could meet you at the bus station . " 
"No , " I said , " outside your office . " 
I could not endure the thought of another wait at the bus station . 
He was there punctually . 
Dressed in a loud tartan shirt and abbreviated shorts he looked hardly more than a boy , a cheerful , good-natured boy . 
He settled me into the car with touching care and then drove like a fiend along the river road . 
Ten minutes later he stopped in a lane and helped me out with the same careful courtesy . 
" What sort of boat is it ? " 
I asked . 
" She , " he corrected . 
" She 's a converted life-boat . 
Not a very good one , but she 's sound enough and the engine 's fine . " 
We walked down to the river 's edge . 
There were a lot of boats moored there and he pointed to the one I was already beginning to think of as mine . 
" That 's her , " he said . 
" Sandpiper . " 
She was not an eye-catching craft . 
Years ago in her white-painted infancy she must have hung presentably on the deck of some luxury liner but now she looked like a gaudy ark , with a top-heavy cabin streaked with layers of red and green and black paint . 
Inside , she was untidy and grubby but roomy enough and well lit by two rows of good-sized windows . 
It was a long time before I got used to calling them portholes . 
The owner was a middle-aged man whose family had tired of the limited excitement of the river and now had their eyes on a seagoing boat . 
Clive — he insisted on being called Clive — haggled with him and within half an hour Sandpiper was mine for three hundred and fifty pounds . 
When all the business details had been settled and the owner had departed with my cheque in his pocket , Clive started the engine and gave me my first lesson in manoeuvring up and down the river and in and out of the other boats . 
It was a warm , still evening ; the plop of fish and the gentle putter of the engine were infinitely soothing after city noises , and I began to look forward to my life on the water . 
At last he pronounced me riverworthy and wanted to know when I would be moving in . 
" At the end of next week , " I told him . 
" I shall have to give a week 's notice at the flat . " 
"I suppose you 'll be mooring her nearer the sea . " 
"Not much . 
There 's a place just below Bletcham , near the footbridge . " 
"I know it . " 
He looked doubtful . 
" There are better places , " he commented . 
" I know , but that 's where I 'm going . " 
He stroked Sandpiper 's wheel lovingly . 
" Take her down there for you if you like . " 
He looked so like a small boy longing to play with someone else 's toy that I laughed . 
" No , thank you , Clive . 
I shall be able to manage . " 
There was a pub in the lane where the car was parked ; to soften the blow and also to thank him for his trouble I gave him a drink . 
Afterwards he drove me back to Bletcham and we parted like old friends . 
He suggested another meeting , but I refused ; the boat was such an attraction that I was afraid , if he came near it again , that I should never see the last of him . 
The following Friday I moved out of my flat , and Max , who was still — justifiably — doubtful of my ability to manage a boat , came to help . 
We piled all my things into his car and drove down to that part of the river where the boat was moored . 
The moment he saw Sandpiper I knew by the look on his face that he had not much faith in her . 
" That fellow Mortimer , " he said , " wants his head seeing to . 
This must be the original ark . " 
"I thought so too , at first , but it 's quite nice inside . 
Come and have a look . " 
We climbed aboard and he eased his wiry frame through the cabin door and wandered about inside , opening everything that would open . 
I guessed he was looking for leaks and waited anxiously for him to say he had found one , but his only comment was : " Plenty of room in here for two , " a remark it seemed safer to ignore . 
Like Clive , he was enthusiastic about the engine and decided , apparently on the strength of its efficiency , that Sandpiper was fit to live in . 
I was more than thankful for his help when we had installed my things and the boat began to move . 
The river was crowded with flocks of sailing boats which swirled round us like gulls and there were two locks to negotiate , but Max seemed to know exactly what to do and at the same time kept me supplied with important bits of information that Clive had forgotten to mention , such as keeping to starboard and giving way to sail . 
" How on earth do you know all this ? " 
I asked him . 
" I used to play about in these things when I was a kid . 
And then I acted as guide on a river boat one summer , to keep myself going between terms at college . " 
It was the first I had heard of it , but that 's one of the things I like about Max . 
He has done so many things that there is always something new and exciting to discover about him . 
" You 're wonderful , " I said , meaning it . 
He pressed the tip of my nose with one finger . 
" That makes two of us . " 
It was about eight o'clock in the evening when we tied up almost exactly opposite Hardy 's garden and went up on to the roof of the cabin to see what we could see . 
From this side , Rivermead was less forbidding ; it stood a long way back from the water at the end of a velvety lawn flanked with flowering trees and shrubs . 
To the right of the lawn , close to the water 's edge , stood an ancient boathouse shrouded in wistaria ; it was built across a narrow backwater and there was a delicate iron staircase climbing the outer wall to a room above . 
" You wo n't see anyone tonight , it 's too late , " Max said and turned to go . 
" No — wait , " I put out a hand to stop him . 
The sun was no longer shining and it was dark across there by the trees , but I thought I had seen something move . 
" Madam , Madam , I beg of you — you must n't do that ! " 
Andrea implored her . 
" You must help me to go ! 
To — to beguile a man I do n't love in order to trap him — it 's shameless , horrible ! 
I will not do it ! " 
"You will — because you must ! " 
Madam told her inflexibly . 
And then , impatiently : " Heavens , girl , what a to-do ! 
The man is presentable enough — and if you marry him , you will get what you want . 
You will be Mistress of Galleon House . 
What more do you want ? " 
"More — much more ! " 
Andrea was hardly aware of what she was saying . 
" Love , I suppose ? " 
Madam asked resignedly . 
" It is the way with all young people , but it is an illusion — a mirage . 
You will do very well without it . 
Or who knows , you may fall in love with Simon . " 
"Never ! " 
Andrea declared passionately . 
" Never ! 
He has robbed me — " 
" And here is your chance to make him pay back ! " 
Madam interrupted . 
" Now go away and think over what I have said , for it is the best advice that I or anyone else could give you . " 
She shut her eyes resolutely , and because Andrea knew that it was purposeless to stay , she went to her own room . 
As Madam 's door closed , she opened her eyes and one thin hand picked nervously at the sheet . 
Had she been wise ? 
Ought she to have hinted at what she knew to be the truth — that Simon had fallen in love with the girl at first sight ? 
" No ! " she said aloud . 
" I doubt if she would have believed it ! 
And there is Simon to be considered . 
With his absurd chivalry , he will need a little encouragement . 
And when the child has thought it over , she will give it . 
It will all work out as Leo planned — " 
The tired eyes closed and Madam drifted into the brief , easy sleep of age . 
And Simon , sitting at Leo 's desk in the tower room , what did he feel about it all ? 
As Andrea herself had done , he had taken it for granted that Leo would have left everything to her . 
His first reaction , when he heard that he was Leo 's heir , was to refuse his inheritance . 
Not only was it grossly unfair to Andrea to do anything else , but , if he accepted it , he was also accepting banishment from his own country and the home he had known all his life . 
And yet — and yet — which was home ? 
That far-off , sun-filled house with its glorious views of pasture and distant mountains ? 
Or this grim , sturdy house that was practically a fortress ? 
From the moment of his arrival it had been as if he had known this place before . 
It was like coming home , and yet , before very long , he had been conscious of a feeling of unreality about it all . 
But that was not because of the House . 
It was the people who lived in it . 
He remembered having thought that they were fantastic , people left over from an earlier age who defied the passing of time . 
Leo , who should have been an adventurer . 
Madam , one of those rare , magnificent woman who , no matter what their age , have the ability to attract and hold the devotion and loyalty of men . 
And Andrea ? 
What was she ? 
A younger version of Madam ? 
In some ways , perhaps . 
As far as loyalty and courage were concerned , without doubt . 
But as yet unsure of herself , as Madam , he was convinced , had never been unsure . 
Andrea . 
It all came back to her . 
Whatever he decided to do must serve her best interests . 
That being so , on the face of it , it would seem that he must somehow pass his inheritance on to her . 
But there was more to it than that . 
Luke , for one thing . 
And for another , the secret of Galleon House which he believed he had all but solved . 
An odd word here and there , a look of amusement in Leo 's eyes — the amusement of a man who has always enjoyed playing with fire . 
And , now and again , a sudden feeling of tension in the air . 
There were other things too , some so nebulous as to make them impossible to grasp , some insignificant in themselves , but adding up , surely , to give substance to an incredible conviction . 
Yes , convincing to himself but lacking actual proof . 
And that he was determined to have before he went to Madam and demanded the truth , as he fully intended doing . 
Already he knew that he would not find that proof among Leo 's papers . 
Sitting in this quiet room with an unpleasant feeling of guilt , he had gone through every cupboard , every drawer , every file . 
All dealt with the normal business of the estate . 
And all were in apple-pie order . 
Leo had been a good man of business as well as — everything else . 
There was the safe too . 
That yielded up a certain amount of jewellery , though none of very great value , a list of Leo 's investments , a statement showing at which bank they were deposited and various certificates and statements from the same bank . 
These last Simon went through carefully . 
For a good many years past Leo had been paying in large sums from time to time — twice or three times a year at the outside . 
One had been made very recently , and Simon recognised it as being approximately the amount that the diamond necklace and bracelet had fetched . 
Surely , all clear and above board ! 
And yet he was not satisfied . 
But for days past he had had the growing conviction that there was one place where he would find the information he wanted . 
That story , which Leo had confirmed , about the Trevaine treasure buried beneath the House itself , had always fired his imagination . 
His grandfather had told him stories about it that , to his boyish mind , had held the very essence of romance . 
And though he had never mentioned the fact to Leo , he knew where the entry to the hidden chamber was . 
What was more , he himself had taken the key on its slender chain from around his dead cousin 's neck and had worn it round his own neck ever since . 
No one had asked him about it , but he thought Madam knew where it was since he had made no secret of what he was doing with it and she had doubtless been told . 
Now he slipped it off and looked at it intently . 
It was a modern key , beautifully made and engraved with the name of a famous firm of safe-makers . 
That further confirmed his suspicions . 
His grandfather had spoken of a massive oak door , studded with steel bosses and strengthened with steel bars — strong enough , no doubt , in the days when it was put there , but evidently not strong enough to please Leo . 
Well , he would go and see what it was all about , for only when he knew the whole story could he decide — 
He went to his bedroom for an electric torch into which he had recently put a new battery and made his way to Leo 's bedroom — a room which , in fact , he could claim for his own now if he wished since it was always used by the owner of the House . 
This , however , he had no desire to do , but at least the fact gave him the feeling that he was not trespassing . 
When one generation succeeded another over so many years as was the case here , some rooms , at least , acquired an almost impersonal quality . 
It was so here . 
Presumably Madam had given orders for the room to be entirely cleared of all of Leo 's personal property . 
It was simply a bedroom , swept and garnished for its next occupant — himself . 
Like many of the other rooms in the House , this was panelled . 
By one side of the fireplace was a door which looked as if it might lead to another room . 
Simon knew better . 
Carefully locking the door through which he had just come , he opened the second door and flashed on his torch . 
At right angles to the door and in the thickness of the massive wall a flight of stone steps ran down and at the bottom was a heavy oak door — the one his grandfather had told him about . 
As he went down , he counted the steps and estimated that they must have brought him just about to ground level . 
It did not surprise him very much to find that the door opened on the latch , for it was so old and worn that it offered little security . 
Beyond it Simon found more steps which suddenly took a turn , so that he knew the old story was true ; the Trevaine treasure was buried right under the house itself . 
It did not surprise him to find that now , instead of the walls and steps being of stone , they were hewn out of solid rock , and then , at the bottom of the further flight , he found a new door . 
It was painted a dull grey , but as Simon laid his hand on it , he knew from the coldness of it that it was made of steel . 
He pursed his lips in a whistle as he flashed the torch over it . 
Set in the rock itself , it presented a formidable barrier — and it must have been no easy task getting it into place . 
All the same , it opened easily at the turn of Leo 's key and Simon pushed it open . 
Eager though he was to get on with his discoveries , he examined the edge of the thick door and its interior carefully before letting go of it . 
He had no wish to take part in a latter-day Mistletoe Bough story ! 
It looked safe enough to him to let go of the door , but just in case , he looked round for something to prop against it so that it could not shut , and then , for the first time , he realised that he was actually in the treasure chamber . 
Neatly ranged against the rock walls were all manner of chests and trunks . 
Some were comparatively modern , some , Simon thought , Captain Jeremy might well have brought home full of plunder . 
He found a good , solid metal one that was not too heavy to lift and set it between the door and its frame . 
Then he began his search . 
It would have been tempting to investigate the contents of the chests , but there was something else which intrigued Simon even more than they did . 
Sunk right into the rock so that only its door showed was a modern safe , and a glance showed that it had a combination lock . 
So , after all , he could not find out what he wanted to know without taking someone into his confidence , he thought wryly . 
Madam , presumably , would know the word that unlocked the safe , but the last thing he wanted to do was ask her for it . 
Well , at least he could have a shot — he did not know much about such locks , but he did know that you could tell the number of letters in the word by the number of dials . 
This was a six-letter word . 
Six letters — and it might be any word in the world ! 
But it was worth while trying words which had some connection with Galleon House . 
Andrea — that had the right number of letters , but he quickly found it was not the right one . 
Galleon — no , seven . 
Trevaine , much too long . 
Well , how about — he looked about himself for inspiration — Jeremy — or pirate ? 
He tried each in turn without success . 
Feeling considerably discouraged , he tried other family names . 
Cherry , Leo 's mother . 
Esther , his grandfather 's sister . 
Two other surnames connected with the family — Penlee and Polwyn — though with little hope over the last . 
Leo , he felt , would hardly use the name of a man he despised so heartily . 
He thought deeply . 
What else was there to try ? 
Poldean , on the other side of the estuary , was too long . 
So was St. Finbar — although Finbar alone — suddenly he gave a shout of laughter that echoed oddly in the confined space . 
She could n't understand that any woman could resist for a moment the prospect of an association — any sort of association — with the wonderful , the handsome , the fascinating Connor Winslow . 
And Con ? 
Well , as far as I could judge , Con thought exactly the same . 
Fatted calf or no fatted calf , Annabel 's homecoming would certainly be a riot . 
CHAPTER 5 " 
Oh , the oak and the ash , and the bonny ivy tree , 
They are all growing so green in the North Country . " 
Traditional . 
THE approach to Whitescar was down a narrow gravelled track edged with hawthorns . 
There was no gate . 
On the right of the gap where the track left the main road , stood a dilapidated signpost which had once said , Private Road to Forrest Hall . 
On the left was a new and solid-looking stand for milk-churns , which bore a beautifully-painted legend , WHITESCAR . 
Between these symbols the lane curled off between its high hawthorns , and out of sight . 
I had come an hour too early , and no one was there to meet the bus . 
I had only two cases with me , and carrying these I set off down the lane . 
Round the first bend there was a quarry , disused now and overgrown , and here , behind a thicket of brambles , I left my cases . 
They would be safe enough , and could be collected later . 
Meanwhile I was anxious to make my first reconnaissance alone . 
The lane skirted the quarry , leading downhill for perhaps another two hundred yards before the hedges gave way on the one side to a high wall , and on the other — the left — to a fence which allowed a view across the territory that Lisa had been at such pains to picture for me . 
I stood , leaning on the top bar of the fence , and looked at the scene below me . 
Whitescar was about eight miles , as the crow flies , from Bellingham . 
There the river , meandering down its valley , doubles round leisurely on itself in a great loop , all but enclosing the rolling , well-timbered lands of Forrest Park . 
At the narrow part of the loop the bends of the river are barely two hundred yards apart , forming a sort of narrow isthmus through which ran the track on which I stood . 
This was the only road to the Hall , and it divided at the lodge gates for Whitescar and the West Lodge which lay the other side of the park . 
The main road , along which my bus had come , lay some way above the level of the river , and the drop past the quarry to the Hall gates was fairly steep . 
From where I stood you could see the whole near-island laid out below you in the circling arm of the river , with its woods and its water meadows and the chimneys glimpsed among the green . 
To the east lay Forrest Hall itself , set in what remained of its once formal gardens and timbered walks , the grounds girdled on two sides by the curving river , and on two by a mile-long wall and a belt of thick trees . 
Except for a wooded path along the river , the only entrance was through the big pillared gates where the main lodge had stood . 
This , I knew , had long since been allowed to crumble gently into ruin . 
I could n't see it from where I was , but the tracks to Whitescar and West Lodge branched off there , and I could see the latter clearly , cutting across the park from east to west , between the orderly rows of planted conifers . 
At the distant edge of the river , I caught a glimpse of roofs and chimneys , and the quick glitter of glass that marked the hot-houses in the old walled garden that had belonged to the Hall . 
There , too , lay the stables , and the house called West Lodge , and a footbridge spanning the river to serve a track which climbed through the far trees and across the moors to Nether Shields farm , and , eventually , to Whitescar . 
The Whitescar property , lying along the river-bank at the very centre of its loops , and stretching back to the junction of the roads at the Hall gates , was like a healthy bite taken out of the circle of Forrest territory . 
Lying neatly between the Hall and West Lodge , it was screened now from my sight by a rise in the land that only allowed me to see its chimneys , and the tops of the trees . 
I left my view-point , and went on down the track , not hurrying . 
Behind the wall to my right now loomed the Forrest woods , the huge trees full out , except for the late , lacy boughs of ash . 
The ditch at the wall 's foot was frilled with cow-parsley . 
The wall was in poor repair ; I saw a blackbird 's nest stuffed into a hole in the coping , and there were tangles of campion and toad-flax bunching from gaps between the stones . 
At the Hall entrance , the lane ended in a kind of { 6cul-de-sac , bounded by three gateways . 
On the left , a brand-new oak gate guarded the Forestry Commission 's fir plantations and the road to West Lodge . 
To the right lay the pillars of the Hall entrance . 
Ahead was a solid , five-barred gate , painted white , with the familiar WHITESCAR blazoning the top bar . 
Beyond this , the track lifted itself up a gentle rise of pasture , and vanished over a ridge . 
From here , not even the chimney-tops of Whitescar were visible ; only the smooth sunny prospect of green pastures and dry-stone walling sharp with blue shadows , and , in a hollow beyond the rise somewhere , the tops of some tall trees . 
But the gateway to the right might have been the entrance to another sort of world . 
Where the big gates of the Hall should have hung between their massive pillars , there was simply a gap giving on to a driveway , green and mossy , its twin tracks no longer worn by wheels , but matted over by the discs of plaintain and hawkweed , rings of weed spreading and overlapping like the rings that grow and ripple over each other when a handful of gravel is thrown into water . 
At the edges of the drive the taller weeds began , hedge-parsley and campion , and forget-me-not gone wild , all frothing under the ranks of the rhododendrons , whose flowers showed like pale , symmetrical lamps above their splayed leaves . 
Overhead hung the shadowy , enormous trees . 
There had been a lodge once , tucked deep in the trees beside the gate . 
A damp , dismal place it must have been to live in ; the walls were almost roofless now , and half drifted over with nettles . 
The chimney-stacks stuck up like bones from a broken limb . 
All that had survived of the little garden was a rank plantation of rhubarb , and the old blush rambler that ran riot through the gaping windows . 
There was no legend here of FORREST to guide the visitor . 
For those wise in the right lores there were some heraldic beasts on top of the pillars , rampant , and holding shields where some carving made cushions under the moss . 
From the pillars , to either side , stretched the high wall that had once marked the boundaries . 
This was cracked and crumbling in many places , and the copings were off , but it was still a barrier , save in one place not far from the pillar on the lodge side of the gate . 
Here a giant oak stood . 
It had been originally on the inside of the wall , but with the years it had grown and spread , pressing closer and ever closer to the masonry , until its vast flank had bent and finally broken the wall , which here lay in a mere pile of tumbled and weedy stone . 
But the power of the oak would be its undoing , for the wall had been clothed in ivy , and the ivy had reached for the tree , crept up it , engulfed it , till now the trunk was one towering mass of the dark gleaming leaves , and only the tree 's upper branches managed to thrust the young gold leaves of early summer through the strangling curtain . 
Eventually the ivy would kill it . 
Already , through the tracery of the ivy-stems , some of the oak-boughs showed dead , and one great lower limb , long since broken off , had left a gap where rotten wood yawned , in holes deep enough for owls to nest in . 
I looked up at it for a long time , and then along the neat sunny track that led out of the shadow of the trees towards Whitescar . 
Somewhere a ring-dove purred and intoned , and a wood-warbler stuttered into its long trill , and fell silent . 
I found that I had moved , without realising it , through the gateway , and a yard or two up the drive into the wood . 
I stood there in the shade , looking out at the wide fields and the cupped valley , and the white-painted gate gleaming in the sun . 
I realised that I was braced as if for the start of a race , my mouth dry , and the muscles of my throat taut and aching . 
I swallowed a couple of times , breathed deeply and slowly to calm myself , repeating the now often-used formula of what was there to go wrong , after all ? 
I was Annabel . 
I was coming home . 
I had never been anyone else . 
All that must be forgotten . 
Mary Grey need never appear again , except , perhaps , to Con and Lisa . 
Meanwhile , I would forget her , even in my thoughts . 
I was Annabel Winslow , coming home . 
I walked quickly out between the crumbling pillars , and pushed open the white gate . 
It did n't even creak . 
It swung quietly open on sleek , well-oiled hinges , and came to behind me with a smooth click that said money . 
Well , that was what had brought me , was n't it ? 
I walked quickly out of the shade of the Forrest trees , and up the sunny track towards Whitescar . 
In the bright afternoon stillness the farm looked clean in its orderly whitewash , like a toy . 
From the top of the rise I could see it all laid out , in plan exactly like the maps that Lisa Dermott had drawn for me so carefully , and led me through in imagination so many times . 
The house was long and low , two-storied , with big modern windows cut into the old thick walls . 
Unlike the rest of the group of buildings , it was not whitewashed , but built of sandstone , green-gold with age . 
The lichens on the roof showed , even at that distance , like patens of copper laid along the soft blue slates . 
It faced on to a strip of garden — grass and flower-borders and a lilac tree — whose lower wall edged the river . 
From the garden , a white wicket-gate gave on a wooden footbridge . 
The river was fairly wide here , lying under the low , tree-hung cliffs of its further bank with that still gleam that means depth . 
It reflected the bridge , the trees , and the banked tangles of elder and honeysuckle , in layers of deepening colour as rich as a Flemish painter 's palette . 
On the nearer side of house and garden lay the farm ; a courtyard — even at this distance I could see its clean baked concrete , and the freshness of the paint on doors and gates — surrounded by byres and stables and sheds , with the red roof of the big Dutch barn conspicuous beside the remains of last year 's straw stacks , and a dark knot of Scotch pines . 
I had been so absorbed in the picture laid out before me , that I had n't noticed the man approaching , some thirty yards away , until the clang of his nailed boots on the iron of the cattle-grid startled me . 
He was a burly , middle-aged man in rough farm clothes , and he was staring at me in undisguised interest as he approached . 
He came at a pace that , without seeming to , carried him over the distance between us at a speed that left me no time to think at all . 
I did have time to wonder briefly if my venture alone into the Winslow den was going to prove my undoing , but at least there was no possibility now of turning tail . 
CHAPTER NINE 
The pale April sunshine filtered into the back court of a Glasgow slum , throwing its soft radiance on grimy windows , blistering the already ravaged paintwork and casting long shadows across the broken masonry of the dirty evil-smelling hovels . 
This was Utah Street , and Utah Street was a cancerous growth in the flesh of a great city . 
The sunlight struggled over a thick layer of dirt on a window at ground level and lightened the interior of a room that was no better and no worse than the majority of its neighbours . 
An old-fashioned range , yellowed by rust , housed the dying embers of a fire that made the airless kitchen a veritable oven of unpleasant odours . 
At the table , littered with a motley collection of articles , ranging from empty beer bottles to discarded articles of clothing , sat the man known only by the appellation of Gaffer . 
Among this wreckage of human society , Gaffer was probably the most defeated of all the wretched inhabitants who called Utah Street " home " . 
Gaffer was an alien in their midst , but the ways of a bully soon make their mark and he swiftly earned a reputation for himself as a man who could defend his chosen way of life . 
In five short years he was not only accepted but had become a leading light in a rapidly dying empire of squalor and decay . 
Gaffer bent his head over the newspaper bearing the day 's racing forecast , oblivious of the sun , the advent of spring and the murmur of voices from the pontoon school in the corner of the yard . 
His forefinger travelled slowly down the list of probable starters for the three-thirty at Newmarket . 
Thoughtfully he tapped his teeth with a pencil as he deliberated over the rival merits of the two horses of his choice . 
Nothing in it as regards the starting prices . 
It was simply a matter of choosing the right horse . 
He smiled to himself as he fingered the five one-pound notes lying before him on the table . 
A couple of good winners today and he could live it up for a week or so . 
Might even go away for a couple of days . 
Reaching for the Form Book he thumbed through its battered pages in search of the information he required . 
When he had made his choice he rose and strode to the door . 
He crossed the narrow close and planted a savage foot on the panel of the opposite door . 
A small shrivelled creature craned a startled head round the jamb , the cadaverous features creased into a nervous smirk . 
" A'right , Gaffer . 
I 'm coming . " 
He jerked on his threadbare jacket and shuffled after the other back to the stuffy humidity of the kitchen . 
" You wantin' somethin' , Gaffer ? " 
"You do n't think I enjoy your scintillating company , do you ? " 
Gaffer scribbled on a slip of paper and tucked the banknotes into its fold . 
" Nip round to Sammy and give him this . 
Wait until the race is over . " 
A slow grin revealed his perfect teeth . 
" I 'm expecting thirty quid back . " 
"You floppin' five quid on one horse ? " 
"What 's that got to do with you ? " 
"Nothin' , Gaffer , nothin' . 
I just thought it 's a bit risky , that 's a' . " 
"And who asked you to do the thinking around here ? " 
Gaffer 's lip curled in disgust . 
" Go on , beat it , and if you get nicked , I 'll paper the walls with you . " 
Glad to make his escape Lofty scuttled off down the close , grateful that the other was in such a mellow mood . 
Less than forty minutes later he returned bearing in a shaking hand thirty one-pound notes . 
Goggle-eyed , he watched Gaffer count his winnings . 
He separated three from the pile and contemptuously threw them on the floor . 
" Go on , buy yourself a Rolls-Royce , " he sneered . 
A jerk of his head signalled dismissal . 
" Do n't go away . 
I might want you later on . " 
" Sure , Gaffer . 
I 'll be next door . " 
Gaffer returned to his study of his newspaper . 
This was his day . 
He could feel it . 
Swiftly he scanned the sheet for the greyhound runners . 
Yes , he was sure Dosser had said he was running The Slob tonight . 
Tentatively , he fingered his winnings . 
Should he risk it all in one fell swoop ? 
Yes , he decided at last , why not , it was time he had a run of luck in any case . 
He rose and moved to the broken triangle of mirror hanging above the sink . 
He studied his image with petulant concentration . 
Always a victim of his over-developed imagination he thought himself a luckless individual for whom nothing ever went right . 
He possessed a persecution complex that frequently reduced him to a maudlin hulk of self-pity whenever opposition reared its ugly head , but Gaffer , the supreme egotist , saw none of this as he examined the face looking back at him through that distorted glass . 
Spruced up and clean-shaven , he was n't a bad-looking man , he decided . 
His jawline was firm and there was no surplus flesh gathering on his tall frame . 
The mouth curled sardonically as he smoothed back his thick dark hair revealing again a glimpse of his teeth , strong and white as blanched almonds . 
He drew in a deep breath and was on the point of turning back to his newspaper when his eye fell on an out-of-date magazine lying on the floor . 
A photograph taken at a recent film premie3re held his attention . 
Slowly he stooped to lift the magazine and an idea began to ferment in his quick brain . 
An idea so daring and yet so audaciously tempting that a shiver of excitement quivered through him . 
He studied the photograph for a long time before throwing aside the book and returning to his study of the racing column , but this time his concentration was fired by the flame of incentive . 
A sharp rap on the door brought a frown of impatience to his face and with a low growl he gave permission to enter . 
The panel swung open to admit a narrow-shouldered man in a black sue3de zipper jerkin and tight Italian trousers . 
" 'Lo Gaffer . 
Heard you 'd a bit of luck on the three-thirty . 
Want a certainty for the dogs tonight ? " 
" Such as ? " sneered Gaffer . 
" Hurly Burly . 
That dog 's jet propelled . " 
Cuddy Gallagher winked . 
" Over'n above that , I happen to know he 's been got at by the boys . " 
Gaffer 's eyes narrowed . 
" That a sure thing ? " 
"Sure as death . " 
Cuddy 's sleek head jerked in the direction of the table . 
" Want me to lay some of that lot on for you ? " 
Gaffer lifted the money and slipped two notes into his pocket . 
" There 's twenty-five quid there . 
Lose it and I 'll kill you . 
I 'll be at Joe 's place tonight but do n't let anyone see you flash my money around . " 
Cuddy peeled off five notes before stowing the remainder away . 
" Commission , " he laconically explained . 
" Well , I 'm away . 
See you later . " 
"Tell The Wop I want to see him . " 
"I havenae time to look for that wee greaser , " Cuddy objected . 
" If you want this lot on in time it 'll need to be done right away . 
Sent Lofty to do your dirty work . " 
"Look , " a dangerous glint appeared in Gaffer 's bright eyes , " I 'll decide who does what . 
You get that money on first then look for The Wop . 
Tonight I 'm going to clean up so you 'd better warn Sammy to keep plenty of the ready by him . 
I want a hundred nicker off him before I 'm finished . " 
Cuddy emitted a low soundless whistle . 
" That 's a lot of change . " 
"Yes , but I 'll get it . " 
"You 'll be lucky . " 
"You bet I am . 
I 'm on the right streak tonight , I can feel it . " 
Cuddy saw the look of fanaticism on the other 's face . 
He did not recognize it as such , but it was sufficient to tell him that this was not the moment to argue . 
" O.K. , so you 're lucky , " he swiftly placated . 
" Have it your own way . " 
Gaffer lifted the half-empty whisky bottle from the sink-board and sloshed a liberal quantity into a tumbler . 
" Here 's to your information being correct , Cuddy , because if it is n't ... " 
His arm flashed out and grabbed hold of a handful of sue3de jacket , " you 'd better not show your face back here , unless you want me to work on it with a razor . " 
Hate rose in Cuddy like mercury in a thermometer but fear stifled his reply as the grip on his throat tightened . 
" Listen , Gaffer , " he whispered in desperation , " even if that dog wins , you 'll no' get a hundred quid back . " 
He swallowed with difficulty . 
" It 's only runnin' at even money . " 
"When you get the winnings , put it on The Slob in the eight-fifteen . " 
"What , all of it ? " 
"All of it . " 
Gaffer threw him away and wiped his hand on the seat of his trousers . 
" If Sammy runs out of cash lay the second bet with Kruger . 
Now get out of my sight before I ... " 
He grinned as he realized he was talking to himself . 
He was well aware of the fact that he was taking a chance in giving Cuddy a free hand with so much at stake , but he was fairly confident of his hold over the craven-hearted little tout . 
Some thirty minutes later he was still avidly studying the photograph that seemed to fascinate him , when Louie Morri sidled into the room . 
It did not take Gaffer long to explain what he wanted the Italian to do . 
" Well , " he concluded , " what about it ? 
Can you do it ? " 
Louis looked worried . 
{ 3 " Sure , I think so , Gaffer , but it'sa no' easy . " 
His big dark eyes swivelled upwards uneasily . 
{ 3 " It'sa goin' to costa lota money , Gaffer . 
I needa special stuffa from up-town an' it'sa no' easy to geta . " 
His podgy hands turned palm upwards . 
{ 3 " You see how it is . 
It'sa no' easy . " 
"If you say that once more , I 'll ram your teeth down your throat . " 
Gaffer leaned menacingly nearer . 
" Now listen , Wop , and listen well . 
You 're going to do this job for me without any more argument . 
If you do it right , you 'll get paid right . 
If not , then I 'm afraid I 'll have to get rough . " 
His breath fanned the little man 's face . 
" You would n't like that , Louie . 
Maria would n't like it either , so you 'd better find out a nice easy way of doing it or you 're liable to be up to your fat neck in trouble , Louie boy . " 
Stark fear turned the Italian 's skin yellow . 
{ 3 " I do it . 
I do it . 
No' to worry , Gaffer , I do it . " 
"That 's better . 
I do n't like when people argue , Louie . 
You ought to know that by this time . " 
He swung round on the ball of his foot as the other winced and moved out of range . 
He smiled . 
" It 's all right , Louie , I 'm not going to hurt you ... yet . 
I do n't think I have to tell you to keep your mouth shut , do I ? 
One cheep out of you and Maria will be putting down an instalment on a nice marble headstone . 
You understand , Louie . " 
Louie 's head rocked back and forward like a hinged flap . 
{ 3 " It'sa a'right , Gaffer . 
I no' open my moutha . " 
"I would n't , Louie , not if I were you , " Gaffer advised . 
" Just you keep thinking that way and everything will be all right . " 
He escorted his nervous visitor to the door . 
" You go back to the shop and I 'll send Cuddy down when he comes in . 
You can make out a list of the stuff you need and I 'll get it for you . 
How long would it take ? " 
Louie thought carefully . 
{ 3 " No' very longa . 
A couple of weeks I think . " 
"O.K. See you later . " 
His finger poked belligerently in the other 's face . 
" Now , remember , keep your mouth shut about this , or ... " 
He made an expressive gesture with his forefinger . 
{ 3 " I keep my moutha shut , " Louie promised fervently . 
CHAPTER TEN 
MARK 'S feet made no sound on the smooth turf as he walked slowly towards the chestnut tree . 
Christiane was sitting with her back to him , her fair head bent over a book . 
He stood motionless for a moment , watching her , his look gravely compassionate as he noted the rug draped over her legs . 
" Yes , quite . " 
Maureen , afraid he might think she had asked too many questions , said nothing for several minutes . 
They had turned the bend in the road and were walking along with Loch Eighe on their left . 
" There 's a road on the other side , " MacLeod said . 
" Have you been about at all since you 've been here ? " 
"A few miles yesterday — to Dalloch and round that way , that 's all . 
Is there a ferry across the loch ? " 
"Not for cars . 
It only goes when it 's wanted . 
I should n't think that 's very often . " 
He pointed to the far shore of the loch where it met Loch Onaig . 
" That 's the ferryman 's house there . " 
Maureen was just able to make out a croft . 
" Can we go across some time ? " she asked . 
" I love ferries . " 
"If you 'd like to . " 
"Please . " 
Rather diffidently she added , " I 'm sorry , perhaps you 'd rather ... " 
"I 'd like to , " MacLeod assured her . 
" The shore 's rather fine along there , there are a lot of birches and bracken . " 
They walked a little farther , then he said , " We 'd better turn back if we 're going to have that drink . 
And you 'll be getting cold . " 
As they retraced their steps he wondered what Maureen 's fiance2 had been like . 
He had been a policeman too long to judge people too swiftly but he would have thought most men would have been more than happy to marry the girl beside him . 
Perhaps it had really been her who had broken off the engagement . 
They reached the jetty . 
Maureen crossed the yard or two of grass and stood on the beach , looking up Loch Onaig to the mountains rising round its head . 
MacLeod joined her . 
" Is n't it lovely ? " she said . 
" I feel I never want to go back . " 
"An hour ago you were telling me you should never have come . " 
"Yes . 
I do n't feel like that any more . " 
She picked up a stone and tossed it into the water . 
It fell with a dull plop and they watched the ripples spreading . 
" How did you come ? " she asked . 
" Train . " 
She turned and walked back to the road . 
MacLeod followed her . 
They talked little on the way back to the hotel , walking slowly , each thinking . 
Arrived there , Maureen went up to her room while MacLeod entered the bar . 
Since his last stay there Alan had had it redecorated to suit the taste of his English patrons . 
The couple who had arrived that afternoon were sitting on a low couch against one wall . 
The contemporary furnishings seemed a more appropriate setting for them than the bright sunlight and sparser surroundings of the dining-room . 
The only other occupant apart from the barman , James , was a shortish , slightly-built man of about MacLeod 's age . 
He had rather small eyes and thinning fair hair and he was wearing a tweed sports jacket that somehow did not look quite right on him . 
He was leaning against the end of the bar and when MacLeod came up to it he eyed him as a man will in such circumstances when he had nothing better to do . 
" A gin and lime and an Export , please , James , " MacLeod said . 
Still eyeing him the other man asked , " Is Mr. Ferguson in , James ? " 
The barman , busy with MacLeod 's order , answered over his shoulder . 
" No , Mr. Martin , he 's out just now . " 
Martin , MacLeod reflected . 
He had heard that name somewhere recently . 
But where ? 
In what connection ? 
Moreover , something about the man seemed vaguely familiar though he could not remember seeing him before . 
Probably it was nothing more than a chance resemblance to someone else . 
" It 's been a grand day again , " he remarked . 
" Damned hot , " Martin agreed . 
MacLeod thought he looked worried . 
" It was hot in the glen this morning , " he said . 
Martin looked sideways at him . 
" You were there this morning ? " he demanded . 
" Yes . " 
"Did you go far ? " 
The barman put two glasses down on the counter . 
MacLeod paid him . 
Martin , he felt , was waiting impatiently for his answer . 
" Nearly to the top , " he replied lightly . 
" Why ? " 
The other did not answer at once . 
" There are some birds up there , " he explained after a moment . 
" I 've been hoping no-one would disturb them . " 
"What sort of birds ? " 
MacLeod asked curiously . 
" Capercaillies . " 
The barman looked surprised . 
" In Glen Onaig , Mr. Martin ? " he enquired . 
" I 've been here all my life and I 've never known any round here before . " 
"Well , they 're here now , " Martin said shortly . 
MacLeod eyed him . 
" They 're those big birds with a piercing cry , are n't they ? " he asked . 
" Yes , " Martin agreed without much grace . 
Out of the corner of his eye MacLeod noticed that James looked surprised . 
" I promise I wo n't scare them , " he said . 
" I do n't suppose I shall go up the glen again while I 'm here . " 
Martin looked relieved . 
" It 's just the top part beyond the fall , " he explained . 
" So many rare birds are driven away nowadays . " 
"Like the ospreys ? " 
MacLeod suggested . 
" Yes . " 
Over Martin 's shoulder he saw Maureen come in . 
The woman sitting on the couch glanced up and eyed her with an almost insolent condescension as she crossed to join him . 
" Will you ask Mr. Ferguson to give me a ring when he comes in ? " 
Martin asked James . 
" Ay , I will , Mr. Martin . " 
With a curt nod to MacLeod the other went out . 
Maureen picked up her glass . 
" Good luck , " she said . 
" Shall we sit down ? " 
MacLeod dragged his thought back from the wild idea that had been forming in his mind . 
" Yes , of course , " he agreed . 
" Had something happened before I came in ? " 
Maureen asked when they were seated on the second of the two couches . 
" No . 
Why ? " 
"I thought there was a bit of an atmosphere . " 
"We were talking about capercaillies . " 
"What on earth are they ? " 
"Large birds found in the Highlands . " 
"Oh . " 
When they had finished their drinks MacLeod asked , " Will you have another one ? " 
"On condition you 'll let me pay . " 
"Certainly not . " 
"Then no , thank you . " 
Maureen smiled sweetly . 
" Look here , " he began . 
" Please . " 
She looked so serious that he smiled . 
" All right , " he agreed . 
" If you really mean you 'd rather . " 
"I do . " 
He crossed to the bar . 
While James was pouring the drinks he asked him , " Was that the Mr. Martin who 's taken the Lodge ? " 
"Ay , that was him . " 
"Mr. Ferguson said something about him being a bird-watcher . " 
"He talks a great deal about them , " James assented , managing to convey an impression of fine contempt . 
He put the glasses down on the bar . 
" Do you know where he comes from ? " 
MacLeod asked . 
" No , I do not . 
It is somewhere down south , I 'd be thinking . " 
"I 've a feeling I 've seen him somewhere before . " 
"Mr. Ferguson might be able to tell you , " James volunteered . 
" He knows him well . " 
"I 'll have to ask him . 
What do the people here think of Martin ? " 
"Och , it 's little enough they 've seen of him . 
He 's not been here more than a few days altogether . 
They do n't mind him , he 's a harmless enough wee man . " 
"Which might be perfectly true , " MacLeod reflected . 
On the other hand ... 
As he turned away Alan Ferguson came through the door behind the bar . 
" Did you have a good walk this morning ? " he enquired . 
" Ay , it 's been a grand day again . " 
Alan grinned broadly . 
" Man , you belong up here ! " he exclaimed . 
" You 've been back twenty-four hours and already you 're forgetting your heathen English speech . " 
MacLeod , grinning and not displeased returned to Maureen . 
" Mr. Martin was in just now , " the barman told Alan . 
" He seemed kind of nervy . 
He wants you to phone him . " 
Alan stiffened slightly . 
" What the devil does he want ? " he muttered . 
MacLeod , hearing him , wondered if Martin was a nuisance . 
Certainly Alan did not look pleased . 
6 
During the night the weather broke . 
When MacLeod looked out of the window the next morning he found that it was drizzling steadily . 
Dark grey clouds hung low over the loch and the hills on the other shore . 
It would probably last until the evening , he thought as he shaved . 
Even if it did not there was little hope of its clearing before the afternoon . 
Oh well , he would be happy enough in the lounge with a novel . 
He took his time over dressing and when he entered the dining-room it was empty . 
He had almost finished breakfast when Maureen came in . 
She was wearing a white raincoat belted tightly round her waist . 
A scarf was tied round her head but the rebellious curl had escaped and hung damply over her left eye . 
She pushed it back . 
" It 's pouring , " she announced , perching on the edge of the chair facing him . 
" I know . " 
"I had n't anything to read and I finished all the Scottish Fields in the lounge on Sunday so I went to buy a paper . " 
She pulled it out of her pocket and laid it on the table . 
" It 's yesterday 's . " 
"It would be , " he agreed . 
" Yes , I suppose so . 
I had n't thought . " 
She watched him eating for a moment . 
" I wondered if we might take the car and find somewhere where it 's drier . " 
He looked at her . 
For a moment she met his eye , then , flushing very slightly , she looked down at the table . 
" I 'm sorry . 
Perhaps you 'd rather stay here . " 
"No , it sounds a good idea . " 
"You want to go ? " 
There was no mistaking the pleasure in her voice and MacLeod felt suddenly cheered . 
Perhaps after all he had not been really looking forward to spending the morning cooped up in the lounge . 
" I do n't like staying in when I 'm on holiday , " she said with a hint of defiance . 
" It seems such a waste . " 
"Shall we take lunch or eat in style ? " 
"In style , I should think . " 
She smiled . 
" We might not be lucky and it 's only a Morris Minor , there 's not all that much room . " 
"There 's something I want to do before we go , " MacLeod told her . 
" Will twenty minutes be all right for you ? " 
"Fine . " 
She stood up . 
He watched her walk to the door , her slim figure moving gracefully between the tables . 
When he had finished his coffee he went in search of Alan Ferguson . 
He found him in his office dealing with the day 's correspondence . 
When MacLeod appeared in the doorway he was frowning over a letter . 
Suddenly he swore and stuffed it into a pocket of his jacket . 
Then he saw the other and grinned . 
" You 're not thinking of walking up the glen this morning ? " he enquired . 
" The path will be more like a river . " 
"No , I 'm going for a drive . " 
"A drive ? " 
Alan stared . 
" With Miss Forrester . " 
"Oh , are you now ? 
Ah well , you 'll not be seeing the sun here today . " 
"I was wondering if you 've a book on birds I could borrow , " MacLeod explained . 
" Birds ? 
Ay , I believe there is one somewhere about . " 
Alan rose to his feet . 
" I was talking to Martin last night and there was something he mentioned I wanted to look up . " 
The other stopped . 
" You were talking to him about birds ? " he asked . 
" Yes . 
He said there were capercaillies in the glen . " 
"He may be right at that . " 
They climbed the back stairs to Alan 's quarters . 
He had a bedroom and a small sitting-room at the end of the building . 
While MacLeod stood at the door of the latter Alan looked through the scanty collection of books on his shelves . 
" It 's not here , " he announced . 
" I maybe lent it to someone and they have n't returned it . " 
"Thanks , anyway , " MacLeod said . 
He made his way to his own room and collected the things he wanted to take with him , his camera , a cap he wore only on holiday and then only when it rained and a pair of powerful binoculars he had bought second-hand years before . 
Maureen was waiting for him in the hall . 
Her car was already outside the door . 
" You 'd rather drive , " she said . 
" Would n't you ? " 
"No . " 
She shook her head and walked round to the other side . 
He drove down the road , only to pull up outside the post office . 
Maureen looked at him enquiringly . 
" Do you mind waiting ? " he asked . 
" I wo n't be a minute . " 
Through a mist of tears she went on smiling — the most wonderful smile I 'd ever seen . 
She whispered , " Oh , my dear , my dear ... " 
Then she offered me her mouth in complete surrender . 
Maybe she thought she could trust me . 
Maybe she did n't care . 
As always , I had to fight the temptation to take what she willingly offered . 
And it was a lost battle from the start . 
When she murmured against my lips , " Hold me tight ... do n't ever leave me ... " 
I could fight no longer . 
Her body was soft and yielding , her tender hands drew me down into forgetfulness . 
Soon she quickened under my caresses as though the touch of my hands brought to life something that had lain dormant with her until this moment . 
When I unfastened her coat , she shrugged it off with fierce impatience and then her lips sought mine again . 
All around us people slept . 
Outside in the windy darkness snow blanketed the sound of distant traffic . 
Our world belonged to Sonia and me — a world created for us alone out of suffering and loneliness and heartbreak . 
Dimly I wondered if this night would spoil all the other nights yet to come . 
She was n't just another woman . 
We 'd get married ... and have kids ... and live like other folks . 
A voice in my head began whining : " ... 
You 're trying to reassure yourself because you know all this has happened before . 
What kind of mother will she make , anyway ? 
She 's told you herself what she used to be ... " 
I called myself a louse . 
Swell husband I 'd make ! 
She trusted me no matter what I 'd been ... and I was eaten up with hatred for all the other men she 'd given herself to . 
Maybe to her I was no different ... 
But to-night was mine . 
To-night would wipe the slate clean . 
To-morrow , Sonia and I would be just two people who 'd met and fallen in love . 
I reached out and switched off the light . 
Then I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom . 
Her skin was smooth and cool as velvet , her hunger as great as mine . 
With a little crooning sound in her throat she drew me close to her . 
Once , she roused and asked in a sleepy whisper , " Do you love me — really love me ? " 
I said , " Sure , honey . 
Sure I love you . " 
I meant it , too . 
But another man lay on the bed beside us . 
I could hear his sneering laughter as her arms carried me off through the fire of oblivion . 
I can hear it yet . 
Picking up a cab was n't easy . 
But we got one at last . 
She kissed me good night before she climbed in — a kiss that was just the barest touch of her lips . 
Her eyes were like stars . 
I 've never known anyone quite as beautiful as Sonia Rakosi . 
When the cab was out of sight in the swirling snow I walked back to my rooming house and went upstairs with my head filled with conflicting thoughts . 
Maybe I was too old to fall in love . 
Maybe that was why I had a pain in my mind that would n't let me decide whether I was happy or sad . 
As I opened the door I could smell her perfume . 
In the bedroom there was the scent of the powder she 'd used when I left her alone to make up her face and tidy her hair . 
Thinking only made me more confused . 
So I had a small drink and then I plugged in the coffee percolator . 
While it was warming up I began remaking the bed . 
Bitter-sweet thoughts kept me company . 
Behind them loomed a shadowy picture of Jakob Kadar , his lumpy face dark with suspicion . 
Everything pointed to him . 
Someone in the organisation was a traitor . 
That fitted the circumstances better than the idea that Zuck had been followed the day he ordered a music-box from a store on Fifth Avenue . 
There was nothing against the theory that he had been followed , but it had been done by somebody who knew his normal daily routine , somebody who 'd only been waiting for the right moment . 
If it had not been the music-box , it would 've been something else . 
Kadar had had the opportunity . 
Kadar was the one member who 'd left the meeting just before ten o'clock . 
Yet ... he could 've had no hand in the switching of the valises . 
That was the last thing he 'd have wanted to happen . 
So it had been chance that saved the organisation . 
If Rickie Oppenheimer had n't picked up the wrong valise ... 
But Rickie should n't have been carrying a brief-case that morning . 
Every other time he 'd left it in the office at the Blue Bottle Club . 
Monday night he 'd broken a long-standing habit . 
When he 'd got no reply at Schultz 's apartment he 'd gone away . 
Some time between then and eight-thirty next morning he 'd disposed of twenty thousand dollars . 
The question was — how ? 
Zuck had n't been lying . 
There had been no money in the substitute valise . 
Which meant that Rickie had given it to someone . 
And he 'd seen only one person that night so far as I knew — Paula . 
But why give it to her ? 
I 'd finished making the bed by then . 
As I pushed it back against the wall I heard something drop on the floor . 
That was when the percolator in the living-room started making bubbling noises . 
There was nothing on the floor that I could see . 
I told myself it must 've fallen down between the bed and the wall . 
... 
Was n't urgent anyway . 
Maybe my cigarette-case ... or Sonia 's powder compact ... 
I 'd look for it later . 
So I got up from my hands and knees , went into the living-room and fixed myself a cup of coffee . 
While I was drinking it I wondered what Peter Rakosi would say when I told him I wanted to marry his daughter . 
Did he know the life she 'd lived in Budapest — or was I the only person in whom she 'd ever confided ? 
What difference did it make ? 
She was n't that kind of a woman , now . 
The past was dead . 
Why did I have to go on tormenting myself ? 
If only I could learn to accept , it would be easy ... 
There I had a new thought that drove everything else from my mind . 
It could n't have been my cigarette-case that had fallen on the floor . 
I had it in my pocket . 
And Sonia had used her powder compact just before she left . 
I remembered seeing her open it and glance in the mirror for a moment or two before we went out . 
On stiff , unwilling legs I walked back into the bedroom and got down again on my hands and knees . 
By the light of a match I saw the thing that had fallen under the bed . 
It was a small metal box , maybe six inches by four and an inch and a half deep — the kind of box that a well-known maker used for packaging pipe tobacco . 
They advertised it on television and in all the glossy magazines . 
Every muscle in my body froze so that I could n't move . 
I 'd never had a box like that : I was n't a pipe smoker . 
Neither was anyone who 'd visited with me in weeks . 
And it had n't been in or on my bed that morning . 
Sheer blind terror held me rigid as if I 'd been stricken with paralysis . 
All I could think of was a newspaper report . 
" ... One arm blown off ... his head and the whole of the upper part of his body a shambles ... he had no face ... " 
The same kind of death had been planned for me . 
Any moment that innocent-looking tobacco box was due to go off . 
Even as I stared at it with my skin crawling it was counting off my last moments . 
Judging from the spot where it lay it had been planted between the underside of the mattress and one of the cross-supports . 
If I had n't re-made the bed ... if Sonia and I had n't made love ... 
Sonia . 
Nothing else accounted for the presence of that hellish box . 
I 'd left her alone in the bedroom when we awoke from the brief sleep of exhaustion . 
... 
She 'd given herself to me ... then she 'd asked me to leave her so that she could dress and fix her hair . 
While I was in the living-room she 'd had time to plant the booby-trap ... 
That 's how it had to be . 
Behind all the kissing and caressing she 'd been planning my death . 
I 'd become a menace that had to be removed . 
So she had appointed herself my executioner . 
Then the match went out . 
I could still see the small metal box under the bed . 
If I 'd had the power of movement I could 've reached out and touched it . 
But I 'd lost the will to do anything but kneel there and sweat , my bones like rubber , my wits gyrating like a carousel inside my head . 
... 
If I got up and ran people would be burned to death in their sleep when the thing went off ... 
The old building would blaze like tinder . 
Maybe I 'd have time to rouse everybody and get them out before it was too late ... but not if they put up an argument , not if they refused to believe me and demanded explanations ... 
How long would it be before the bomb detonated ? 
My watch said the time was a few minutes off midnight . 
Whoever had set the fuse would have had to allow for the possibility that I might come home late . 
So much depended on how long Sonia Rakosi had waited for me to return . 
She had n't been in any hurry to leave . 
So there must 've been an ample time allowance . 
Probably it was meant to explode at three or four o'clock in the morning when they could be sure I was in bed and asleep . 
But there was always the chance that I was wrong . 
Any way I looked at it I had to take that chance . 
With sweat on my hands I groped under the bed and took hold of the metal box . 
Slowly and stiffly I stood up and walked into the living-room . 
I 've never been so scared in all my life . 
Putting on my coat meant transferring the box from one hand to the other . 
I wondered stupidly what would happen if I dropped it . 
Maybe nothing . 
Maybe it did n't matter . 
If I 'd miscalculated nothing mattered . 
I left the light on and went out and down the stairs , the box held in both hands . 
Outside it was blowing a blizzard . 
I had to watch where I put my feet in case I fell . 
I had to force myself to think . 
The one thing I knew with absolute certainty was that I had to keep going . 
The streets were empty . 
Snow blanketed everything beyond a few yards ahead . 
With the metal box hugged against my chest I went on . 
My hands became numbed with cold and I had only a vague idea where I was . 
Somewhere a clock struck the hour . 
By then I was in a daze . 
Time no longer counted , time existed only inside the thing I carried . 
Above the noise of the wind I thought I could hear the ticking of a clock . 
It grew louder and louder with every step I took . 
CHAPTER 12 
EVEN NOW I do n't know where I thought I was going or what I meant to do when I got there . 
All I remember is walking on and on , seeking a place where I could rid myself of the metal box — a place that I knew only too well I might never reach . 
To leave the time bomb lying in the street was one thing I could n't do . 
It had been created for me . 
No one else must die because I 'd been a fool . 
No innocent passer-by must pay the price of my stupidity . 
So I walked on in my own private hell , listening to the ticking noise that I knew was inside my head , cringing in my stomach from the holocaust that the metal box might unleash at any moment . 
" One thing I forgot , sir . 
About what they told Murray at the pub . 
The only other inhabitant 's a girl . 
A niece , she 's thought to be . " 
"Miss Kipper , in fact ? " 
"That may well be , sir . " 
"Splendid . 
This affair is going to offer one sheerly aesthetic moment , at least . 
I look forward to it . " 
And Appleby walked on . 
The drive was completely untended . 
It passed between ragged shrubberies and skirted a garden which was a wilderness . 
But even this hardly prepared one for the spectacle that the house itself presented on a closer view . 
It stood , as it were , knee-deep in weeds — like some forlorn prehistoric creature in an inedible pasture . 
Its grey surfaces were flaked and cracked ; its woodwork was denuded of paint ; many of the lower windows showed tattered curtains pulled awry , and some of the upper ones lacked entire panes of glass . 
The effect was the more shocking because the house carried its breeding on its ruined face . 
If challenged to date it , Appleby would have said 1718 ; if challenged to name the builder , he would have said James Gibbs . 
But now it spoke either of madness — which , indeed , was what was attributed to its owner — or of penury . 
Perhaps it spoke of both . 
Appleby found himself wondering how the false Astarte had risen to a decent coat and skirt when she had presented herself to Gulliver and Heffer on that fateful occasion . 
For this was Astarte 's home . 
Mysteriously , but finally , Appleby had n't the slightest doubt of it . 
He glanced at Heffer 's car . 
It told him that Heffer was either a man of unassuming tastes or possessed of only a very modest private income indeed . 
He glanced at the other car , which Parker had supposed to be a doctor 's . 
There was a brief-case on the back seat — and , neatly stacked beside it , a sheaf of documents tied with narrow pink tape . 
Not a doctor , then . 
A solicitor . 
This discovery was a relief . 
Appleby mounted half a dozen steps to the front door . 
As he did so , he recalled Sir Gabriel Gulliver 's guess at Astarte Oakes 's background : the ponies and the spaniels in decay , and a garden boy beginning to feel entitled to a rise in wages . 
Genteel poverty among the descendants of a Colonial Governor . 
Well , that looked as if it had been a near miss . 
The poverty was here , all right . 
But it did n't seem as if there were a garden boy . 
Appleby rang the bell . 
Or , rather , he went through the motion of doing this . 
But the bell-pull went limp in his hand . 
It might have been the limb of an infant corpse — he suddenly and ghoulishly thought — before { 6rigor mortis set in . 
Then he remembered a story of a man who had pulled at a broken bell like this so vigorously that yards of wire had shot out and strangled him . 
Veere House , he decided , did n't conduce to a healthy state of mind . 
He clenched his fist and knocked vigorously on the door . 
After a pause , he knocked again . 
There was every reason to suppose that the effect in the interior must be considerable . 
But nothing happened . 
Perhaps he ought to begin shouting an injunction to open in the name of the law . 
But that was more in Parker 's line . 
He tried the door and found that it was n't locked . 
So he opened it and walked in . 
Trespass , perhaps . 
But not house-breaking or burglary . 
He was confirmed at once in his impression that here had been a dwelling of some elegance . 
In front of him was a circular hall of moderate dimensions , rising to a cupola and lantern , and clothed in a plain honeycoloured marble which was relieved by engaged pilasters in the same stone . 
Ahead was an archway beyond which a branching staircase rose beneath a second cupola . 
On either side were open doorways , giving on large rooms . 
The hall was quite empty . 
It could have done with a vigorous wash down , but apart from this it retained the dignity of the day on which it was built . 
Contrastingly , both the rooms leading off it gave an immediate impression of being disgraced . 
And the reason was obvious . 
Not only were the carpets and curtains in the last stages of decay . 
The rooms were crowded — and crowded with junk . 
It would n't all be junk , indeed , if transported to a junk-shop . 
But it was junk here . 
Appleby concentrated on the room on his right . 
There was a further open door at the other side of it , through which it was possible to see part of another room beyond . 
This seemed to be crowded in the same way . 
And neither room was furnished with the slightest attempt at individual character or even specific function . 
There were beds and there were sideboards . 
There were desks which looked as if they had come from massive Victorian offices , and there were dressing-tables which looked as if they had come from penurious Victorian servants ' dormitories . 
The walls were covered with pictures — oils , water-colours and steel-engravings side by side . 
There were bags of golf-clubs and bundles of tennis-rackets . 
There was a vaulting horse and a croquet-box and a stuffed bear and a harmonium . 
And in the disposition of all these crowded objects there was only one principle to be observed . 
It was a principle , however , that struck Appleby as a notable one . 
Nothing was entirely concealed behind anything else . 
In the minute which it took Appleby to absorb all this , Veere House was as soundless as the tomb . 
If the false Astarte were really here , it must surely be in the character of a Sleeping Beauty . 
In which case , Jimmy Heffer had certainly taken on the ro5le of Prince Charming . 
But whether his plan for arousing the lady was at all moral — whether , indeed , they might n't both wake up to find themselves in gaol — was a different matter . 
Anyway , they must now be hunted out . 
Appleby was about to address himself to this task when he became aware that the deathly stillness of the place had been broken . 
It had been broken by a light , firm tapping from — he judged — some distant part of the ground floor on which he stood . 
The tapping came nearer . 
You did n't have to remember Treasure Island and the blind pirate to be a little unnerved by it . 
Appleby , who had fought for his life in thieves ' kitchens almost as often as Sexton Blake , felt a momentary tingling of the scalp . 
And then — at the far end of the farther room at which he had been glancing — the occasion of the tapping appeared . 
It was an old woman . 
She came from the shadow of some remoter corridor into a shaft of afternoon sunshine falling through the farthest of a series of windows which extended between Appleby and herself . 
As she did so , the sound of her stick — for the tapping did proceed from a stick — was muted but still irrationally alarming . 
She had passed from a tiled floor to a carpeted one . 
It was a quick tapping — so that it suggested itself as indeed produced by a blind person rather than a lame one . 
But this was delusive . 
The old woman had eyes that could see . 
That she was using them was almost the first impression you had of her . 
She was advancing towards Appleby with her head turned steadily to her left . 
Her stick was in her right hand . 
With her left hand — its index-finger extended — she was making spasmodic but purposeful movements as she advanced . 
She was very old . 
She was in black . 
The black was relieved by a white collar and a white cap . 
And this , of course , was what made her uncanny — uncanny as she advanced through this decorous house , a house of the kind in which the successors of Sir Christopher Wren had tactfully refined upon the Dutch taste of William and Mary . 
The old woman was like an old woman by Rembrandt . 
That was it . 
Of course it did n't make sense . 
Mrs Kipper was not , presumably , a Kipper . 
Very probably she had been a Miss Smith or a Miss Jones . 
But perhaps she had grown into the place ... 
Now she had passed into the shadow between two windows — and now she was in clear faint sunlight again . 
She was nearer . 
And she was n't — Appleby saw — a Rembrandt , after all . 
She was just a Frans Hals . 
She had n't — that was to say — grown out of the flesh with age . 
She was an ordinary acquisitive old woman . 
But no — she was n't quite ordinary , either . 
She was behaving in too extraordinary a way . 
For he could see , now , what that left index-finger was doing . 
It was ticking things off . 
It was ticking off all those rubbishing material possessions , no one among which quite concealed any other . 
The pathological old miser — for that , of course , was what she was — advanced steadily towards Appleby . 
She looked at him , and frowned . 
He ought not to have been there to be counted . 
She stopped , and spoke sharply . 
" Young man , " she said , "are you Richardson 's clerk ? " 
It certainly was n't that she was purblind . 
A glance from her eyes told you that she saw everything . 
So Appleby felt rejuvenated . 
Whether he was a young man was , after all , a relative matter . 
On the other hand , he certainly was n't Richardson 's clerk . 
So he had better say so . 
" No , " he replied . 
" My name is Appleby , and I have come to call on your niece . 
You must forgive me for walking in . 
I seemed to have some difficulty with the bell at the front door . " 
Mrs Kipper — as she must be presumed to be — ignored this . 
She had come to a halt for a moment , but now she walked on — crossing her elegant hall and entering the first of the rooms on its farther side . 
At the same time , she signed to Appleby to accompany her . 
She gave the impression of being prepared to listen to him , provided this did not distract her from the more important task of checking over her property . 
This still took place entirely on her left hand . 
No doubt there was going to be a return journey . 
" I asked " — Mrs Kipper said — " because Richardson is in the house now . 
I heard his voice as he went upstairs . 
He has no business here . 
I have a good mind to turn him out of the place . " 
"Is n't Mr Richardson your solicitor ? " 
Appleby asked this very much at a venture . 
" Certainly not . 
My solicitor is Mr Wiggins of Gray 's Inn . 
I went up to see him only a few days ago . 
Richardson is a local man , who did business for my late brother-in-law , Joseph Kipper . 
Most mistakenly and unnecessarily , Joseph left a sum of money in trust for the education of my niece . 
Richardson administered it . 
But that is all over . 
The money has been spent and the trust discharged . 
The girl may send for him as she pleases . 
But he has n't a penny left to give her , all the same . 
Unless out of his own pocket . " 
"Your niece Astarte ? " 
Mrs Kipper had now nearly reached the far end of the room . 
And she took time off the more serious business of her peregrination to look sharply at Appleby . 
" Astarte ? 
Stuff and nonsense ! 
My niece 's name is plain Jane . " 
"Plain Jane , I am told , is one of the loveliest girls in England . " 
It was again in an experimental spirit that Appleby offered this . 
What it produced from Mrs Kipper was a cackle of highly disagreeable laughter . 
" Lovely ? 
All the more reason why she should marry Charles Onions . 
They will cancel each other out , so far as looks go . 
Mr Onions is a revoltingly ugly man . " 
"I see . " 
And indeed Appleby was beginning to see what might be called the archetypal simplicity of the situation at Veere House . 
" Your niece has no wish to marry this revoltingly ugly man . 
But she is penniless . 
And he is the match that you design for her . " 
"You express it very clearly , " Mrs Kipper said . 
And she walked on . 
" The announcement , " she said presently , " would look well in The Times — supposing one were to waste money in that way . " 
" Very interesting indeed , " Miss Hocking murmured when he ended . 
" But I 'm afraid I ca n't enlighten you . 
Not at all . 
Mrs. Pritchard frequently marked books , made little annotations on passages that interested her . " 
"Oh , lots of people do that , I know . 
But this mention of a neighbour 's name — and his suspecting something — and the sentence not finished — and the book on the floor when she died . 
Come now , Miss Hocking , you ca n't tell me you do n't think that adds up to something . " 
She did n't answer , just looked down , her eyes moving slightly behind lowered lids . 
Satisfied that he had silenced her , he said : " This message — do you reckon it could 've been for Mrs. McEvoy , warning her that her husband suspected her of using the boatshed as a place of assignation ? " 
"I 've told you I have no idea who this warning could have been for . 
If it was a warning . " 
"Did anyone turn up at her place , " he probed patiently , " soon after she was dead ? " 
"Everyone . 
The news spread quickly , and everyone came in to see if there was anything they could do . " 
Grogan turned to Stephen . 
" What were the grounds for your and Mrs. McEvoy 's divorce ? " he asked . 
" Desertion , " Stephen said promptly , and flicked on a lighter and lighted a cigarette . 
" On whose part ? " 
"Mine . 
On our return from Singapore things were n't too happy between us , and I left her and she divorced me . " 
And that was that , Grogan thought . 
A nice clean decent desertion , and she never so much as turned her eyes on any other bloke ! 
No ! 
A brick wall here every bit as thick as the old girl was putting up . 
Pointedly , Miss Hocking reached over and took Stephen 's cup , and put it back on the tray and straightened the things on it as though to say , Good morning , Inspector , and I hope you 're satisfied with what you have n't learnt . 
Forestalling her , Grogan got up , took his hat off the chair and stood a moment turning the brim round in his hands . 
" By the way , " he said , and kept his eyes steadily on her face , "about where McEvoy was shot . " 
"Yes ? " she said , as he paused . 
" We find now that it did n't happen down by the fowlyard and him carried indoors . 
He was shot in the bedroom , as it first appeared . 
So it does n't have to be a strong man after all . " 
Miss Hocking 's expression was admirably impassive under his stare . 
But the blood that rises to or drains away from the face at certain moments is under no one 's control . 
In the shade of a tree on one of the stones that enclosed his small domain , Jeffrey Cornwall was sitting filling a mid-morning pipe . 
To the tune of Cherry Ripe droned several tones flat he rolled the tobacco round and round in his palms . 
Round and round and round , while meditatively , as a cow chewing the cud , he let his eyes rest on the flat water ahead of him . 
The near-to-overhead sun seemed to flatten it still further so that hardly a ripple stirred its surface . 
The shadow of a bird flying low was a black cloud , a small fish leaping was an explosion . 
" H 'm ... h 'm ... h 'm ... 
Ripe I cry , Full and fair ones come and buy . " 
Round and round and round ... 
Grogan , leaving Miss Hocking 's , stopped to have a word with him . 
Leaning up against the tree , taking out a cigarette and lighting it , the inspector said there were worse occupations than what Mr. Cornwall was engaged on ! 
That himself he was n't half looking forward to the day when he 'd sit in the shade and smoke his pipe and give the job away . 
Cornwall agreed heartily . 
He 'd always said , Retire while you 've got the health to enjoy your leisure , cultivate your mind instead of an ulcer . 
Then , talking of jobs , he wanted to know whether the police had got any nearer to solving the crime . 
Grogan said that there had been several small developments . 
For instance — and he brought Cornwall up to date about the warning message written by old Mrs. Pritchard in the book . 
Cornwall listened , blew a cloud of fragrant smoke , and pressed the tobacco down with his thumb . 
" Would you think , " Grogan asked , " that McEvoy suspected his wife of meeting a feller in the boatshed ? " 
"What fellow ? " 
Cornwall wanted to know in exchange , with an upward squint of the eye . 
" Say , Mr. Pritchard . " 
Cornwall gave a soundless whistle . 
" Well ... 
I do n't know anything about that . 
Everyone admires the girl , of course . 
But I have n't seen any signs of her carrying on with anyone . 
But then , more than likely , I would n't have seen it if it 'd been right under my nose . 
I 've got beyond the stage , thank God , of being interested in love affairs , would n't give a damn even if it was my own . 
And frankly I do n't think Boris would 've cared two hoots if she 'd had a dozen men in the boatshed . " 
"No ? 
How say he wanted to divorce her and was snooping around for evidence ? " 
Cornwall rejected this , too , with a shake of his long , thick head . 
" No ... " 
He enveloped a passing fly in a cloud of smoke . 
" No . 
Divorces cost money . " 
"Well , he had a bit , had n't he ? 
Did n't have to work , seemed comfortable enough . " 
"Yes , but he did n't like to spend it . 
Not in getting rid of a wife when all he had to say was — if he wanted to , that is — " I know what you 're up to , beat it " . " 
"Look , if you can prove adultery against a wife you do n't have to keep her . 
If you have n't got the evidence but just turn her out on suspicion , she can force you to support her . 
Maybe it wouldn't 've suited her to clear out with nothing , even if it was n't much of a match for a girl as young and pretty as that . " 
"You may have something there , " Cornwall nodded . 
" For Dal 's sake , too , she might 've wanted to stay with him . 
However , I would n't know . 
All that side of life — I 'm not concerned with it . " 
Grogan , looking down at him thought , Not a bad looking old cove . 
Upright and well-preserved , hair still dark and thick . 
Was he a bit too emphatic about how little interest he had in the other sex ? 
He said suddenly : " By the way , Mr. Cornwall , about that gun of yours . " 
"By jove , yes . 
When am I going to get it back ? " 
"Chatting with Mrs. McEvoy , she says again that she never saw her husband fire a gun , or speak of shooting . " 
"Does n't mean a thing . 
He was an odd sort of chap . 
He 'd plant vegetables and forget to water them , yet he 'd wage war on anything that took a nibble at them . " 
"His wife says he did n't give a damn for the vegetables . " 
"He did n't give a damn till somebody else wanted them — even if it was only a rabbit . 
He was like that about a lot of things . 
He did n't give a damn for a lot of his old records but he 'd hit the roof if young Dal Owen touched them . " 
"You 'd say , then , McEvoy was n't too fond of his brother-in-law ? 
I thought that might be why he came down here to your place to sleep . " 
"Look , Inspector , I would n't know . 
Do n't quote me , " Cornwall said hastily . 
No , Grogan thought as he nodded and passed on his way , Do n't quote me — do n't expect any opinion — do n't expect any help . 
Do n't help the police if there 's a dozen murderers loose in the community . 
Stand on the sidelines and cheer on anyone out to down the cops . 
Well , he 'd forget 'em all if he could just get one bit more on the old girl . 
Half-way up the hill , he met Manning coming down it . 
Grudgingly , Manning admitted that the other 's guess had not been too bad a one . 
He 'd just been talking to the Fordham police , and this was the way it was ... 
CHAPTER 15 
THE FRYS WERE HOME BY MIDDAY . 
There had been no nice little lunch out , no trip to the pictures ; instead , the hire car deposited them at the top , and they came down the hill even more slowly than they had gone up it . 
Edward 's face was still more pale and drawn , and Jane 's manner more determinedly cheerful than when they had set out . 
Walking ahead , as earlier , she quickly opened the door with her key so as to have it wide before he reached it , and hurried into the living-room , lowered the blinds half-way , arranged cushions on the sofa , and went out to the refrigerator to get him a cool drink . 
She sat and watched him as he sipped the milk and soda ; and now one more fear was added to all the others in Jane 's eyes . 
One fear worse than the others , worse than the hateful children in class , the birds in the morning , the frogs in the night . 
Edward had voiced the fear several times in the car on the drive home ; and each time , with dry mouth and a faith that she was far from feeling , Jane had said : 
" Do n't worry , Eddie . 
It 's like the confessional . " 
"Should be , but is it ? " 
"Of course it is . 
Of course it is . " 
Even now , when steps sounded on the veranda , she said , with last-ditch courage ; " That 'll be Vetch 's boy , " though the steps were clearly of four feet , not two , and Vetch 's boy never came to the front door . 
The entry of Grogan and Manning , following on Manning 's information to Grogan , left no room for further ostrich tactics on Jane 's part . 
The Frys greeted the visitors with no small talk . 
Jane , having brought them in , murmured : " The police , Eddie , " and went back to her chair and they sat looking at the two detectives with their habitual air of resigned anxiety . 
The room was as trim and orderly as the Frys themselves . 
From year to year not the smallest thing in it was ever changed . 
Jane dusted it once a day , and put each object back in its allotted place . 
Grogan was n't long in explaining the reason for their call : the Frys ' visit to a doctor 's surgery , their visit to a chemist near by , the purchase of surgical lint , bandages and antiseptics . 
The damning facts gathered by a police constable in Fordham could n't be denied , nor could the deductions to be drawn from them . 
Yes — yes — and yes , Edward admitted . 
It was his blood that had spattered the stones in the yard outside Boris McEvoy 's fowl-run . 
Edward , his legs along the sofa , reached out and put his glass down on a table . 
Jane , her eyes filled with burning intensity , seemed not to breathe now . 
It would have been hard to say just what the Frys were clinging to with such tenacity , life in the austere house seemed so joyless , its barrenness so little different from that of that " fine and private place " , the grave . 
" Where were you wounded , Mr. Fry ? " 
Grogan asked when the facts had been stated and admitted . 
" In the calf of the leg , a flesh wound , " Edward rapped out . 
" The bullet ricocheted off a stone . 
My wife thought it had begun to look more than slightly angry today , and I was persuaded to see a doctor . 
Otherwise , we could have been able to keep the whole miserable incident to ourselves . 
Or , even , if I could have relied on this much-vaunted medical etiquette I might have maintained that the things I bought at the chemist 's were for some minor injury that had nothing to do with McEvoy 's death . " 
"Who fired the shot ? " 
"Boris McEvoy . 
I 've lived in this locality for three years , and all I ask is to be left in peace to — " 
"Was it deliberate ? " 
"Kindly allow me to tell the story in my own fashion , " Edward rasped at him . 
The stern schoolmaster 's glance was turned on the inspector . 
Edward would be in control of the class and none other , and interrupters would be promptly dealt with . 
His injured leg up on the sofa did little to lessen his air of authority ; his uplifted hand commanded it , and the sharp turn of his head and the snap of his eyes . 
I was alone at the moment , though we were two in the household . 
My younger brother Tom shared our holding of some two hundred acres , but he 'd gone out to see about the barn door which was banging in the wind , so if anyone had concluded that we two bachelors were also wealthy , here was I another such opportunity for murder . 
It was fancy I know , but its possibility made me nervous . 
Tom was a man you could never be sure of . 
He was eccentric , moody , and shrewd , secretive to a fault , fond of company and very fond of liquor . 
He made every trifling incident an excuse for a " celebration " , as he called it , though he was steady enough when it suited him to be . 
But as I said , he was most unreliable . 
I was the eldest of the surviving sons , and three years Tom 's senior . 
I had a different temperament ; I was always one to count the costs beforehand , I seldom smoked , I 'd no taste for it , and as to strong drink , well it did n't appeal to me , though I took it when I considered it to be in my interests to do so , otherwise I looked on it as a sheer waste of good money . 
I enjoyed work for work 's sake ; a violin well played , or a well told story . 
Tom was the reverse of my tastes , though good at heart . 
He was thoughtless , more than selfish ; an unknown quantity would I think best describe him . 
As I sat there musing and waiting his return , a sudden and powerful gust of wind shook the entire cottage , which trembled violently and was accompanied by a sound of tearing , which terminated in a dull thud in an adjacent room . 
At this I jumped to my feet in alarm , as I 'd not have been at all surprised if the entire roof had collapsed . 
It was very old and in need of repair . 
However nothing further happened and I became curious as to what had apparently fallen . 
Taking the lamp from the table I went to investigate , but no sooner had I opened the room door than my lamp was nigh extinguished by a violent draught . 
I was able to see that the gable end of the roof had been ripped off and swept away . 
Luckily it was a fine though windy night , or we would certainly have been flooded . 
It was a room seldom used however , so things might have been worse . 
The room contained little furniture — in fact I knew its contents by heart , so that when I saw an unfamiliar parcel lying on the floor I was mystified , and before another gust of wind came I had hurriedly lifted up that loosely tied parcel and returned to my room as I was fearful of my lamp 's chimney being destroyed by the draught . 
The parcel was of a light though rustly nature , and appeared to have been carelessly packed . 
Its cord was useless in effect , so I 'd no trouble in its removal , on doing so I was dumbfounded by its unexpected contents . 
I must have stood some time motionless in awe . 
On examination I found it contained about twenty bundles of one pound notes , which I later discovered amounted to £2,010 in all . 
When my sudden excitement had subsided , I found I was becoming very nervous , which later developed into anxiety as to what I ought to do . 
I felt I could not consult anyone for advice , and I was equally uncertain if I should even tell Tom my brother , for if we did share it he might talk in his cups , or indeed drink its entirety , and if I kept it secret , I could not use it without he in time asking awkward questions as to where I had obtained all the money . 
To lodge it in the bank might also make for embarrassment so I thought at the time . 
Now I know better . 
There was only one alternative and that was to inform the police . 
I did n't relish that . 
As a final solution I was undecided . 
Its destruction by fire , although I was loath to destroy wealth . 
Before however I had made up my mind as to what I would do with it , the room door unexpectedly opened and Tom entered , sober and silently . 
I 'd been so engrossed in my thoughts that I never heard his step above the high winds . 
When he saw the pile of notes , he rushed over and picked up a bundle in silence examining it thoroughly as if to see if they were real . 
Then he spoke hoarsely to me , saying " Where did you get these ? 
Are they yours , and were you counting your wealth in my absence ? 
Or maybe you 've stolen them , Eh ? " 
His eyes were staring at me wildly as if he 'd not hesitate to do me an injury if I gave him what he might think was a false explanation . 
I could see that he had already made himself a satisfactory answer . 
That had always been his piggish way — judgment before , and in spite of , any evidence . 
I replied at once . 
To have hesitated would have meant suspicion , and he had a tinge of that already . 
I told him that I 'd found the money , relating in detail all I 've said before . 
He kept watching me all the time incredulously . 
I could quite understand this . 
It did appear fantastic and almost improbable . 
But when I 'd ceased talking he said , " Well Jim I believe you , I do n't like it " . 
I agreed it certainly was unpleasant and peculiar . 
Suddenly he pressed down the brown paper wrapper and said " Look there ! 
See it has poor old David Tuns ' name written on it " . 
I followed his pointing finger , and sure enough the name and address was there , showing also a cancelled revenue stamp . 
A thought flashed through my mind , but before I could give it expression Tom banged his fist down on the table and exclaimed " It 's surely blood money and will bring bad luck on us ! 'T IS plain that the murderer wrapped his ill-gotten gains in the first thing that he could find and placed it in our thatch . 
But why did n't he ever return ? 
Was it to throw suspicion on us two lone men ? " 
Again he eyed me — I thought suspiciously as if he thought 't was I who had done the deed and hid the money , but as I could give no explanation , I said so . 
I was always a man to speak out my mind straight , asking him what we 'd do with the money now that it was here . 
He paused long at that . 
Then he said " Perhaps it were a bank robbery , and if so the number of the notes would be known " . 
It was possible , though hardly probable , I said , " Yet the late David was not believed to have been a man of means , so it was , " I added , " quite possible that 't was never his and the wrapper a mere coincidence " . 
I was quite convinced and Tom agreed , that David had never hidden it in our thatch with his address on it , though some people are queer , and 't would have saved him income tax to have done so . 
We could form no conclusion as to its origin , but had to face the fact of its disposal . 
When I suggested the police , Tom would not even listen to me , so after a long debate far into the night we decided to leave it till morning and then decide . 
Next morning however he was up earlier than usual and was attending the live stock when I came into the room at my customary time . 
When I 'd finished breakfast and went to find him I did so , and commenced to repair our damaged roof , as the wind had ceased although it was still overcast . 
I questioned him as to why he had n't asked Hattie , our local expert thatcher to do the job . 
He muttered something about not wanting strangers about our home as they knew too much of others domestic affairs already . 
I could perceive that he was in a very sour mood , so decided not to pursue the matter , nor indeed to refer to our agreement of the previous night about the disposal of my find . 
There was no hurry anyway , I thought . 
It seems hard to believe now , but it was not till five months later that I brought up the subject in desperation . 
Tom made no reference ever to it , and it was early Spring , with a lot of urgent improvements due on our farm . 
Extra money could be usefully spent on it , and if it was a thing that Tom agreed , I 'd decided to spend a discreet figure on this objective , so as not to arouse local suspicions or talk . 
To make a big outlay was to start the busybody neighbours tongues with Jim Kogh 's sudden wealth , and indeed — " Where did he get it ? " — 't was easily started , but mighty hard to stop . 
Mid-February then it was , when I again approached Tom asking him why it was that he did n't help me to decide our windfall of over five months ago . 
He said that he 'd been waiting for me , and so I saw that one was waiting for the other , in some kind of awkward fear . 
It was that he eventually agreed with me that , barring telling either the police , or any of our neighbours , we were quite within our rights in equally dividing it , as 't was found unclaimed on our premises , and so it was that we had a mutual share out of the £2,010 . 
He took it without a murmur , but turned as he made to leave the room . 
At the door he said : " I hope this does not get me into any trouble " . 
I do n't pretend to know what he meant by saying it , but it again entered my mind that he might spend it recklessly on drink , and give our secret away , for he was , as I 've already said , a very intemperate man when it suited him . 
I replied that I hoped it would not , unless he ran the way of trouble . 
I thought my hint would be sufficient , but he only looked at me and said that there were more ways of getting into troubles than drink , and money was one of them , especially as it had been queerly come by . 
With that he went out . 
I could n't understand him at all . 
He appeared to be both nervous and vexed , but why , I could n't even imagine . 
Sometime later — 't would be at least eighteen months I 'd say — to my great surprise I saw Tom emerging from the delapidated old house of the late Dave Tuns , the neighbour whom I 've already referred to who had been found murdered and whose house was still unoccupied and a ruin . 
We locals would n't enter it . 
It was the late owner 's property and he had died without issue or relatives . 
It could not therefore be legally disposed of , though Tom and I had acquired the adjacent lands by local authority . 
I saw Tom coming out of this dreaded house one day , but I refrained from mentioning it to him for a time , as 't was really none of my business . 
About a month later than this , he told me one morning that he had had several bad dreams about the late David and that he was going to have him prayed for , and to put a stone or suchlike to his memory . 
Why he should decide to do this was beyond me . 
David was no relation of ours , and a long time dead , but I did n't pursue this . 
Nevertheless I was mystified as to why Tom took a sudden interest after such a lapse of time as eighteen years . 
I was equally surprised that he was not drinking . 
This was contrary indeed to my expectations , for he was not one to hold money , much or little . 
Later I heard in a roundabout way that he was visiting a nearby widow and her daughter , both considered to be well off in property and gilt-edged investments , and above criticism . 
Farland sat waiting in the lounge . 
He 'd yet to meet Dr. Halset , who 'd arrived just after dinner . 
Following a telephone call , a little earlier , Winter had said , " I 'd like an opportunity of explaining you to Halset before he sees you . 
Would you mind very much ? 
You can stay in the dining room , or ... " 
"I 'll be in my bedroom , " Farland had told him . 
" There 's every comfort , and I 've a letter to write . " 
"So glad you understand . 
You 'll hear us come upstairs . 
He 's certain to want Wally to retire early and will probably give him a stronger sedative . 
When we 're through we 'll join you in the lounge . " 
"How much will you tell Dr. Halset about the reasons for my being here ? " 
Farland had asked . 
" I 'll tell him as little as possible . 
He will , of course , have to know about your rescuing Wally from the cliffs last night . 
That falls into the medical picture . 
But the local gossip and other troubles are outside his province . 
You 'll be able to take your cue from me . " 
While he was waiting for them , Farland reviewed his own decision to say nothing of what he 'd learned during the day . 
For one thing , he was reluctant to reveal the source of his information . 
He was prepared to believe Susie Bowers , but Winter might feel very differently . 
It would n't suit Farland 's plans to have the girl banned from the house on the grounds that she was an irresponsible gossip . 
He 'd other valid reasons for silence . 
So far there was no proof , no confirmation , and there was still much to be discovered . 
He strongly suspected that Smail was one of the men who 'd been watching the house at night ; but the evidence of the chewing-gum was circumstantial . 
Considered objectively it only proved that one of the intruders could have been Smail . 
The identification of the second man as either Harker or Beddoes was even flimsier . 
This was a lead . 
No more . 
He 'd have to watch them ; and if the suspicions were proved right , then he 'd have to discover who was employing them . 
And had the same unknown person induced Bowers to start the talk in the village ? 
Or was that fortuitous ? 
Farland summed up . 
Quite fair to hold out on Winter . 
It seems he 's keeping things back . 
If he knows about the knife ... 
And if he knows that Wally did attack the girl ... 
There were voices in the hall and Winter entered with the visitor . 
He effected introductions . 
Halset was not at all as Farland had pictured . 
He was a shortish man of slight build . 
The nose was the predominant feature of his face . 
It was long and beakish , coming out so far that one felt the tip must intrude in his vision whenever he glanced downwards . 
He was almost bald , the remaining hair tufting at the sides and tending to curl at the back . 
He looked a mournful man and his handshake was loose ; but his voice was well modulated and , Farland imagined , could be soothing . 
" Mr. Farland , I 've heard how magnificently you behaved last night . 
I 'm thankful you were here and averted what would certainly have been a tragedy . " 
"I did what I could , " Farland murmured . 
He glanced at Rufus Winter . 
" It was a situation that called for somebody pretty athletic . " 
"I 'd not the nerve — let alone the body , " Winter said candidly . 
" Let me get you a drink . 
How very fortunate , doctor , that you should happen to be coming down this way . 
It 's not often you leave town . " 
"I escape too rarely , " Halset said . 
" I prescribe rest for myself ; but I never manage to take it . 
However — there was this long-standing invitation and I suddenly found myself with a number of cancelled appointments . 
My secretary managed some re-arranging of the remaining ones and — well — here I am . " 
"Taking on an extra fifty miles of driving and a bit more work , " Winter commented . 
" I appreciate it . " 
"Do n't worry . 
I do n't mind driving . 
In fact , I do so little these days that I welcome it . " 
When they were sitting comfortably , a drink at hand , Winter said : " You can talk freely to Farland . 
I 've told him very little — largely because I do n't sufficiently understand your methods . " 
"Hypnosis , " Halset said . 
He moved a little in his chair so that he was facing Farland . 
" I expect you know that it 's possible — with the right subject — to virtually turn back the clock . 
Fortunately for him , Waldo Sutton 's a good subject . 
I can put him into a hypnotic sleep very quickly . 
It took longer at first and the results were no more than encouraging ; but now we 've reached the stage where he falls into a trance in response to a simple word formula . 
While he 's in this condition I can take him back , make him relive portions of the past . 
In particular that night of the air-crash . 
You know of the disaster ? " 
Farland nodded . 
Halset continued , " The value of hypnotic treatment lies in the increased suggestibility of the patient and also what we call abreaction — bringing repressed material back to consciousness . 
It 's a complex matter , not easy to explain in a few words . " 
"I think I get the general idea , " Farland said . 
" Do you give this hypnotic treatment to all your patients ? " 
"Indeed , no . 
It 's only possible in certain cases . 
And it 's only one among many methods of treatment . " 
Winter said , " You always have a soothing effect on Wally . 
We should n't have any more trouble for the time being . " 
"I hope not , " Halset said . 
He did n't sound so confident as Winter . 
In fact it seemed to Farland , who 'd been watching closely , that Halset was not entirely at ease . 
He gave the impression of being a worried man and once or twice , during the explanation of the treatment being given to Wally , he 'd glanced at Winter as though for support . 
Or is it just , Farland wondered , that I 'm not too favourably impressed ? 
He wanted to study the psychiatrist more closely . 
He could n't be professionally critical but he might evaluate the man . 
However there was no chance , for Halset looked at his watch and announced he must be on his way . 
Winter , at Farland 's shoulder , said quietly , " I hesitate to suggest you should run any risk ; but I 'd like to be sure our unknown friends are n't watching . " 
"Leave it to me , " Farland assured him . 
Halset had not risen from his seat . 
Winter said , " You 'll excuse Farland ? 
He 's a man of habit — likes his evening exercise . " 
"Of course , " Halset said . 
He accompanied the loose handshake with a murmured hope that they might meet again sometime . 
Farland left the house by a back door , just behind the garage , and here he paused thoughtfully . 
Did it matter if the men who watched the house saw Halset 's car leave ? 
Did Winter have a genuine reason , or was it just a smooth dismissal ? 
Remembering that Halset had remained seated Farland favoured this explanation . 
He thought , Halset sees me — and then they get me out of the way . 
Could be worth checking . 
Moving with cautious silence he reached the terrace and approached the windows . 
One of them , at the side of the doors , was open at the top . 
He moved a small garden bench nearer to the wall and stepped up on it , leaning towards the window . 
Halset was talking . 
" I still do n't like it . 
I do n't like the risk . 
We should have kept ... " 
"Nonsense ! " 
Winter interrupted briskly . 
" I know this is complicated ; but I can handle it . 
We wo n't fail . " 
"I wish you 'd never ... " 
Halset lowered his voice , or was moving farther from the window . 
Farland could hear no more ; not even Winter 's reply . 
He guessed the two men must be leaving the lounge . 
He jumped down and replaced the bench . 
He went back to the garage and stood there waiting . 
Within five minutes there was the unmistakable slam of a car door . 
As the car drove off he made his way along the hedge . 
Winter might stroll round the house or come out on the terrace and Farland was anxious to give him no cause for suspicion . 
Why was Halset uneasy and what was the risk he 'd mentioned ? 
Were they discussing some aspect of the treatment Wally was undergoing ? 
Or was that last private conversation in no way connected with Wally ? 
Winter had business interests — or so he claimed . 
It was n't impossible for Halset to be financially involved . 
Investments , perhaps . 
He 'd presumably come to know Winter quite well . 
Certainly it sounded as though Winter was making the decisions , and this rather ruled out medical matters . 
That sentence interrupted by Winter might have been : We should have kept to the original investments . 
Winter might be playing the market . 
That could be complicated ; but he 'd probably feel himself competent to handle it . 
Farland thought , If money 's the answer it 's nothing to do with me , and politely pushing me off was justified . 
But was money the answer ? 
Farland tried to connect the words with the whispering campaign against Wally , ignoring Winter 's assurance that Halset would not be told of this . 
The result was unsatisfactory . 
By this time he was nearing the bushes , so he dismissed the overheard conversation from his mind . 
He needed to have his wits about him . 
He 'd no intention of being caught as he had on the previous night . 
He came to a sudden stop , hearing a slight rustling ahead . 
The sounds became more definite and he had a glimpse of someone running across a gap between bushes , heading towards the orchard . 
He swore under his breath . 
By some ill-fortune he 'd been spotted first . 
He plunged forward in pursuit but still using caution , remembering there might well be two men . 
By the time he reached the orchard , though , it seemed certain there was only one intruder , who was gaining ground . 
Thanks to Susie 's guidance earlier in the day he knew his quarry was making for the cliff path ; but this was of no particular value , for the man obviously knew the layout much more intimately . 
Racing along the narrow path by the allotments Farland at last had a clear view of the man he was after and there was no mistaking the tall , gangling figure . 
It was Smail . 
Within seconds a bend in the track hid him from view and Farland did n't see him again . 
When he joined the wider cliff path Farland stopped . 
Smail was too cunning to keep to the path ; he 'd be making his way under cover of bushes and stretches of hedge . 
Which was his way ? 
To the village ? 
To Brigantine Cove , where the Diana might be lying ? 
It had to be a guess and even if he made the right choice everything was in Smail 's favour . 
There were hundreds of places where he could hide . 
Farland accepted defeat . 
He regained his breath , listening hard , but there were no betraying sounds . 
He lit a cigarette and began to retrace his steps . 
Alongside one of the allotments was a fence and here he rested for a short while . 
It was a warm night and he was tempted to stay longer , but he 'd still quite a distance to cover and he 'd the thought that Winter would be anxious . 
So he moved on , walking briskly . 
When he finally came to the garden and had a clear view of the house he could see the french windows were open and Winter was pacing the terrace . 
Farland hurried across the overgrown lawn and Winter , seeing him , came hurrying down the terrace steps . 
" Thank heaven you 're back , Farland . 
I 've been so worried ! 
I was trying to screw up sufficient courage to come and look for you . 
Scared after last night — I have to confess it . 
You 're not hurt ? " 
He sounded anxious . 
" No . 
Someone was spying , but unfortunately he saw me before I spotted him . 
Chased him as far as the cliff path — and then lost him . " 
"Did you get a good look at him ? " 
Winter asked eagerly . 
Farland 's hesitation was brief . 
" The chap had too big a start — plus the advantage of being on familiar ground . " 
There was little to be gained by identifying the intruder as Smail , he felt . 
" You got my message through the flower-seller ? " 
"What message and what flower-seller ? " 
"Please yourself . 
There 's other talent for hire . " 
Loddon began to signal the waiter . 
" All right , no need to go off half-cocked . 
You might be a flick . " 
"Do I look like one ? " 
"No ... " 
"Okay . 
Anywhere we can talk ? " 
"I 'll leave in a moment ; you go out the entrance where they come in from Coventry Street . 
I 'll probably be around . " 
The man got up and left , pausing a moment at the door where the porter wanted to know why he had no bill . 
Loddon paid his own account , finished his cigarette and got up . 
He looked about him , wondering if Sergeant Leinster was in the room . 
If so , he was not visible . 
In Coventry Street the reporter halted outside the doors of the Corner House , waiting . 
His table companion appeared , touching his arm and making a head jerk towards Rupert Street . 
They walked in silence , turning into a wide court half-way up on the right where , half-way along it , the man stopped . 
" Now friend , what 's the job ? " 
"Your name Light ? " 
"What 's that got to do with it ? " 
His tone was wary . 
" I never talk to men without names . " 
"Choosey , are n't you ? 
Call me Shiner . 
If you 've got any funny ideas about anything , forget them . " 
He touched his left arm that Loddon had noticed was carried slightly away from his body , the sign-manual of the man habitually used to a shoulder-holster . 
" I 'm never funny when I 'm out on business . 
But I 'm damned if I 'm going to talk in a place like this . 
Know anywhere private ? " 
"I might do , if you give me a lead on something interesting , for example . " 
Loddon did not say anything , fumbling in the left-hand pocket of his trench-coat . 
He half grinned when he saw Light 's hand begin to move towards his left armpit . 
When the reporter 's hand reappeared , it contained a thick packet . 
He flicked the top fold , revealing five-pound notes in what was a very large collection of them . 
" This good enough ? 
Plenty more where these came from . " 
Light 's quick look was expert . 
" Looks about seventy of them in that lot . " 
"Eighty , to be precise . " 
"Good enough . 
We 'll get a cab . 
Got any objection if I ask you to hold your hat over your eyes on the journey , friend ? 
I do n't advertise my home . " 
Loddon was amused at Light 's caution , but impressed by it when he stopped a cab in Wardour Street and held out a card to the man , telling him to drive to the address it bore . 
From behind the shelter of his hat Loddon , whose knowledge of London is almost as good as Superintendent Shott 's , knew when they turned left in Shaftesbury Avenue . 
From Piccadilly Circus , following the curious angle round Hyde Park Corner , it was fairly easy and , by the slight left hand sway of the cab , Brompton Road was identified . 
Then Loddon got confused , but he had an idea they turned round the Albert Hall and began to twist in a multitude of small streets , halting at last . 
If he could not guess the address , he had a shrewd idea of its whereabouts . 
When he got out it was in a short , ill-lighted mews . 
The cab driver was paid off . 
Light led the way to a door beside a closed garage . 
He took a key out of a pocket , smiling without humour when he saw Loddon looking round . 
" Do n't worry , friend . 
You 'll never guess it in a thousand years . " 
Loddon nodded in a baffled fashion , not bothering to add that a small sign in the distance , caught by a trick of light from a badly curtained window , said : " Hickliff — Coals " . 
He knew he would have no trouble in finding the mews when he wanted to come again . 
There was darkness behind the door that opened . 
Not until Loddon had reached the top was a button touched , and he saw a door on his right . 
" Go on in ; it 's not locked . " 
The door gave access to a tidily furnished sitting-room where chintz and Japanese oak predominated . 
At one end was a large record-player with , on the facing side of the room , a television set . 
" Make yourself at home . " 
Light threw his coat and hat on a chair . 
Loddon retained his own . 
" Thanks , I 'm not staying long . 
Only take a few minutes . " 
"Sounds like something easy . 
Drink ? " 
Light moved over to a table spread with bottles . 
" Whisky ; if not , beer . " 
"Easy . " 
He filled two glasses and brought them across , sitting on a low couch facing Loddon . 
" Health . " 
"And yours . " 
The reporter sipped the drink , setting down the glass unusually slowly . 
He was trying to find an angle , not so much for the purpose of framing a proposition but in the hope of getting Light to unwittingly give him a slant on the facts he was seeking . 
" Now look — " then he paused . 
The door he had noticed on the far side of the room was opened , and a big man with an extremely ugly face entered . 
He was yawning and stretching as if he had just woken from sleep . 
He stopped , and stared . 
" This the prospect ? " 
His voice was soft , almost urbane . 
" That 's right , Eeky . 
We was just getting down to business . 
He 's willing to pay — " 
Eeky Morris went slowly to a table near the wall , took something out of it , and turned , a long-barrelled Smith & Wesson Service pistol in one hand . 
He made a face at Light 's expression of surprise . 
" Sucker , are n't you , Shiner ? 
Seen this chap more than once . 
Name 's Loddon . 
He 's a reporter . " 
The pale blue eyes became narrowed and bitter . 
" You sure ? " 
"Sure I 'm sure ! 
Seen him at a coupla trials , and his picture in the Daily Report , once . 
And you brought him here ! " 
"His message came through the pillar-box . " 
"That damned flower-merchant ! " 
Morris 's voice was sour . 
" Probably got the lead from one of the boys . 
I always told you it 's asking for trouble relying on that old fool . " 
"I 'm here , too , " Loddon said ; he disliked being ignored , even if the party was scarcely in his favour . 
" I 'm a reporter . 
Okay . 
And what the hell do you propose to do about it ? " 
Light was on his toes again . 
One hand sneaked out and the reporter 's face became white then scarlet where the violence of an open palm hit it . 
" That 's what , friend . " 
He half turned to Morris . 
" I 'll take him , Eeky ? " 
"Please yourself . 
I 'll cover him while you frisk him . " 
Loddon submitted meekly to the search , his blue eyes so intently angry that Light was outstared , completing the search with rough hands . 
He swore gently . 
" Precisely nothing to identify him . 
And — " he swore again . 
" Two fivers covering a bundle of scrap cut the same size . 
You busy little fellow ! " 
His hand took Loddon on the other cheek , then he began to remove his jacket . 
" This is something I 'm going to enjoy , friend . " 
Loddon glanced at Morris 's gun , guessed at the proximity of neighbours , and decided to chance it . 
Light had only half removed his jacket , he went forward as if he had jumped . 
One ready fist came up from the ground in an almost classic haymaker . 
Light 's head snicked back ; he folded up as if he had suddenly gone boneless , and lay still . 
Morris said something wicked under his breath . 
" Clever bastard ! 
Stay where you are , unless — " 
" Unless nothing ! " 
Loddon leapt at him , the comforting zeal for battle rising with the swift urgency he knew well . 
" You would n't use that thing here , and you know it ! " 
He dodged the downward lash of an attempted pistol-whipping , and one fist smacked on Morris 's ear with a comforting thud . 
But Morris was both larger and tougher than his partner . 
He threw away the gun , ignoring what must have been a painful blow , and stepped forward . 
If he was big , Loddon was not short , if with far less weight . 
The two of them stood toe to toe and traded blows with the efficient economy of men who knew how to fight . 
Loddon realized his weight was just not good enough when Morris began driving him back . 
He gave hurriedly , leapt over the chair he had been sitting on , and before Morris could understand the manoeuvre , vaulted back again with the help of a shortened handspring . 
Both his feet in mid-air hit Morris on the chest . 
The action brought Loddon over , but it was on top of the partially winded Morris . 
They began rolling over and over , hands at throats and eyes , crashing into the silent Shiner Light on the way . 
The table of drink bottles came down . 
They ended against the record-player which tottered but did not fall , releasing a confetti of gramophone discs on them . 
Loddon did not think he had the stamina of the other man . 
He forced the attack to try and win the fight before he was exhausted , both of them gouging and punching with a sort of envenomed hate , grunting and cursing at each other . 
The pleasant sitting-room was becoming a chaos and neither of them paid any attention to knockings on the wall , the protests of alarmed and irritated neighbours . 
Morris , pounding steadily at Loddon , seemed determined to take all the punishment going so long as he could prevail in the end . 
With his physique it seemed highly probable he would . 
He hit the reporter in the chest with the force of controlled fury . 
But he telegraphed the blow , and Loddon was already moving away . 
He grunted , went head over heels and came up against a table behind the fallen table of drinks . 
He hurled himself backwards over it , sliding across and dropping to the far side . 
Morris angling himself forward almost simultaneously , got the impact of the table thrust at him . 
It was followed by Loddon in a headlong dive over the top . 
They went down with a violence that shook the floor , entangled themselves and began methodically to try and pound the life out of each other . 
It was bitter and merciless , and might have gone on until the gasping Loddon was finished . 
But Light 's voice came like the lash of a whip : 
" All right , friend ; stick 'em up . 
I 'm perfectly ready to use this thing . " 
Loddon paused , half turning . 
He saw Light on his knees , holding Morris 's gun , then folded up as Morris 's fist drove into his wind with deliberate savagery . 
It seemed hours before Loddon came out of the wrenching of agony inside him . 
It felt as if he would never breathe again , but , somehow , with little gasps he slowly came to a doubtful normality . 
When Light dug him in the back with the gun , he tried to get up , failed , and tried again . 
This time he got to his feet , and stood there . 
His hands bunched and he tensed himself to jump at the jeering Eeky Morris . 
Light thrust the gun , and Loddon paused . 
" All right , guts . 
If I ca n't risk firing this thing , I can still club it , so nark it if you do n't want a sore head . 
Eeky , I want to know what this chap knows — it 'd pay to take it to certain people , eh ? " 
"Yes , " Morris , breathing heavily and dabbing at the blood pouring from a cut ear , looked as if he was going to enjoy the party after all . 
" How ? " 
"Ask him . 
If he does n't feel like answering , I can handle him . " 
Light looked as if any refusal to answer would suit him ; he stared at Loddon with an intent expression . 
" Now , friend . " 
A battered , still gasping Loddon grinned crookedly at him . 
" Melodrama in A Flat ! " 
It was a poor jest but it seemed funny enough to laugh at outright , then Loddon 's lips curled in agony . 
The butt of the Smith & Wesson was slapped viciously against the side of his knee . 
" That 'll do to start off with . " 
Light moved back , waiting until Loddon 's involuntary tears of agony had stopped . 
" Feel like being civil , friend ? " 
"If you put that gun down — " 
"I 'm taking you — " 
" I think not . " 
The voice from the door brought round the heads of the three men . 
Shevlin said , " I 've got more information for you . " 
"Yeah ? 
What ? " 
"A scream from the Slaytons ' living-room can be heard at the Weeks ' if the French doors are open . 
It ca n't if they 're closed . " 
"You tested it ? " 
"That was my experiment this morning . " 
Willis said , " Good going , Shevlin . 
That 's important . " 
If Shevlin expected a pat on the back from Camp , he did n't get it . 
" Yeah , " said the chief , " except he might 've been smarter to find out how loud a scream sounds in Star 's bedroom . " 
CHAPTER NINE 
The papers Tuesday night spread the murder all over the front pages . 
CHAUFFEUR HELD IN SOCIALITE SLAYING were the headlines and they contained all the nuances of sin and sex that readers ate up . 
It was the kind of case the papers loved . 
There were people in high places , a beautiful and almost naked woman , and the possibility that under the bright light of police investigation all sorts of scandals would be uncovered . 
It was the dream case and editors had spared no pains in their effort to give colour to the facts . 
One enterprising reporter had dug up an old publicity photo of Phyllis taken when she was pounding on the doors of show-business and that helped the cause for it showed her as a ravishing beauty taken , as it had been , under the best conditions and eleven years before . 
Phyllis ' career on Broadway was played up ; the fact that she had been the prote2ge2 of a big-name director and that she had , for two years , been married to Hans Meredith who had since become a prominent playwright . 
There were even statements from Meredith and the director in which they both said flattering things about Phyllis and regretted her untimely death . 
Phyllis was glorified by the articles but her husband fared less well . 
In mentioning his five years of marriage , they did n't overlook the fact that he had divorced an earlier wife who had run off with another man . 
It was n't the sort of material that helped the head of a hospital and one of the top heart surgeons in the east . 
Wednesday morning 's papers took a slightly different approach . 
With few developments in the investigation , they turned to interviews and speculation and the picture they ran was of Ralph , not Phyllis . 
It showed him , head lowered , coming out of the Griswold Funeral Parlour with Harry and May Wilson , and Phyllis ' father and mother . 
He was wearing a black suit and a black hat and dark glasses and he did n't look happy . 
The questions that the articles raised were : Why was Phyllis Slayton dressed as she was ( overlooking the perfectly plausible possibility that she was getting ready for bed ) , Why was nobody at home that particular night , and Who had parked a big car behind the bushes and gone to see her ? 
The amateur detectives of the press dismissed the hidden tea service as merely a plant , an attempt to disguise the real motive for the murder . 
Wednesday was the day of the inquest and the crowds came early . 
There were fifty people on the town hall steps at seven-thirty in the morning and when the auditorium doors were opened at nine , a double line of people extended across the street and all around the green in front . 
The auditorium had eight hundred seats but more than twice that number were waiting outside and fifteen minutes after the line started moving , there was n't a seat to be had outside of the section reserved for principals and officials . 
Phyllis Slayton was packing them in as she never had on Broadway and hundreds had turned out the night before to file by her bier in the funeral parlour even though the lid was closed . 
Judge Mansfield , with a flair for the dramatic , strode on to the platform in a swirl of robes at precisely ten o'clock and the buzz of the crowd turned into dead silence . 
He sat behind a table near the front of the stage beside which an empty chair for witnesses faced the audience . 
The inquest was conducted by Town Prosecutor Robert Herring and Dr. Allen was the first man called . 
Herring spent twenty minutes questioning him with Dr. Allen answering in a soft voice that people strained to hear . 
He described the position and condition of the body and the means by which he determined the time of death . 
Then Herring asked him pointedly about the matter of sexual attack and it was obvious from Herring 's manner that he strongly doubted the claim that there had been none . 
It seemed to Herring and all the other people in the hall that no woman , clad only in a filmy ne2glige2e , could possibly be strangled without being attacked , but Allen knew what he knew and he would n't be swayed . 
There had been no attack . 
After Dr. Allen stepped down , Dr. Slayton took the stand and the questioning was brief . 
He told how he had gone to the board meeting , stopped for a couple of drinks at Phaedo 's and come home to find his wife had been killed . 
Slayton was obviously suffering on the stand and Herring was gentle with him . 
Lt. Willis was next and he explained what had been done . 
The victim 's robe , dust from the scene , and fingerprints from all over the house had been sent to the laboratory in Hartford . 
No clues had been found in the robe or the dust and the fingerprints were still being sorted . 
Further than that , extensive interviews had been conducted and over seventy-five people had been questioned , not only those acquainted or related to the deceased but all known criminals , perverts , and sex-offenders in the area , everyone who had ever been called to the attention of the police . 
Nothing conclusive had been uncovered . 
Star Slayton was at the inquest with her father , as was everyone else on Terrace Lane , but she was n't called upon for testimony about the grey-haired man who looked like Joe Morgan and no mention was made of a chauffeur named Gary James , nor of his pink smudged handkerchief . 
Herring conducted the whole affair in as general a way as possible so that the only statements definitely made revolved around the time , place , cause , and victim of death . 
Anything to do with the perpetration was left wide open so that Judge Mansfield could pronounce the broadest decision of the court , to wit : " The court finds that Phyllis Slayton , ne2e Wilson , was strangled to death by hands and by sash in the living-room of her home on Terrace Lane between the hours of nine and ten-thirty on the evening of August third , nineteen hundred and fifty-nine , such death being at the hand of person or persons unknown . " 
Then he adjourned the inquest and went into his chambers to pose for pictures with Herring . 
As the crowd filed out of the torrid and stuffy auditorium , Camp and Willis went back to the basement headquarters . 
The chief was perspiring freely and he was grumbling , as he always grumbled , at such red-tape phases of law-and-order as inquests . 
A supernumerary was holding down the desk because all regular patrolmen had been ordered to attend the inquest . 
He held up an envelope and said , " This came while you were upstairs . " 
It was a special delivery letter , made of an ordinary three-cent stamped envelope with the fourth cent for first class mail and the price of a special delivery made up by additional three cent stamps with extra for good measure . 
It bore a Marshton postmark with the time 9 a.m. , and was addressed to : Chief of Police , Police Headquarters , Marshton , Conn . 
The address and the words " special delivery " had been typed on the envelope by a battered old machine that had a piece missing from the " L " and a badly worn and unaligned " E " . 
Camp looked the envelope over briefly , then ripped it open and pulled out the sheet inside . 
He unfolded it carefully , as though by instinct not touching it with more than his fingertips . 
Inside was a four-word sentence which read : "Ralph Slayton killed Phyllis . " 
CHAPTER TEN 
CAMP read the note and frowned . 
Then , holding it by the corners , he showed it to Willis and Shevlin . 
The lieutenant whistled but Shevlin shook his head . 
" There 's one in every crowd , " he said . 
" One what ? " 
"It sounds like a crank note . " 
Camp grinned . 
" Kind of a funny note for a crank . 
Notice it does n't suggest Ralph might have killed his wife as a poison pen writer usually does . 
This says he did kill his wife . 
The writer talks as if he knew something we do n't . 
He talks as if he 'd seen it happen . " 
"And , " Willis agreed , "as if he was afraid we were going to send James up for it . " 
Shevlin stood alone . 
He said , " I do n't think Slayton did it . " 
"Give me a reason , " said Camp . 
" He 's alibied . " 
"It 's an alibi we have n't checked yet . 
The writer of this note might have been afraid we would n't check it . " 
Willis said , " He does n't know the State Police . " 
"Hell , " said Camp . 
" He does n't even know the local force . 
Here , " he told the supernumerary . 
" Go find a board and some thumbtacks . 
I want Lieutenant Willis to take this to the lab . " 
The officer went out in search of the materials and Shevlin said , " Ralph went to a board meeting and stopped at a bar . 
He did n't get home until twenty minutes past eleven and Phyllis was n't killed any later than ten-thirty . 
How 's he going to lie about a thing like that ? " 
"It 's funny about that bar , " Camp said musingly . 
He sat down at his desk and pulled out a black and acrid cigar from his shirt pocket . 
He stared at it thoughtfully . 
" Slayton did n't usually stop at bars after meetings . 
Interesting that he happened to do so this particular night . " 
"That 's easy . 
He 'd had a fight with his wife . 
He did n't want to go right home . " 
"A violent fight , " Willis put in . 
" Very violent . 
It might have picked up again after he returned . " 
"At eleven-twenty ? " 
Shevlin retorted . 
" An hour after she was dead ? " 
Camp lighted his cigar . 
" The good thing about your growing up in this town is you have background , " he said . 
" The bad thing is that it makes you prejudiced . 
Forget the time element , Shevlin . 
Forget that for a minute . " 
He puffed on the cigar in enjoyment . 
" A fight with Ralph could explain what she was doing in the living-room . " 
Shevlin shook his head . 
" Not from the way she was killed . " 
"Are you going to try to tell me that because Ralph Slayton operates on hearts he could n't strangle anybody ? " 
"Not that way . 
Not from the arguments you give . 
Ralph might strike Phyllis in a rage , or throttle her , or even kill her . 
But to half throttle her and then knot a sash around her neck to finish the job , that 's not just rage . " 
Camp paused with his cigar in mid-air . 
He looked steadfastly at Shevlin for a long moment . 
Finally he said to Willis , " You know ? 
I thought the men I had to make into cops in this place were pretty hopeless , but I take it back . 
I think the boy has a spark . 
I think in time we might make him into a real detective . " 
It was about the first compliment Shevlin had got from Camp and he could n't help feeling flattered . 
" Do n't tell me I win a point ? " 
"Hell , no , " Camp said , lowering the boom . 
" Do n't go getting a swelled head . 
One swallow does n't make a drink . 
You come up with one vague intangible in Slayton 's favour and you think it eliminates him as a suspect . " 
"He was n't even a suspect until you got that note . " 
"Was n't he ? " 
Camp grinned at Willis . 
" We can spot intangibles too , Shevlin . 
Do n't you think the fact he and his wife had a fight makes us perk up our ears ? 
Do n't you think we pay attention when it 's stated they fought all the time ? 
Do n't you think we notice he never thinks his daughter might have been killed too ? " 
" You went down to the theatre to meet Ellam , and that puts you right there , on the scene of the crime . " 
He smiled at her , and she saw his smile , and her eyes filled with horror . 
" No ! 
It was n't like that . 
I did n't go to the theatre — I can prove it . " 
She was really frightened now , as she had n't been before . 
" I knew Roger was going to meet Susan , because I 'd met her myself that same morning , and she told me all about it . " 
"Did n't that make you wild ? " 
"No , because Roger had often spoken to me about marrying her . " 
"For her money ? " 
She drooped her head and looked at the wine glass , turning it round in her fingers and letting it reflect the light . 
She said : " I was n't wild , just miserable . 
I felt sort of helpless and perhaps a little jealous . 
I decided to go for a walk to shake the feeling off . 
I passed the end of the theatre drive , but I swear I did n't go in . 
Roger was waiting there . 
He told me about his date with Susan , that everything depended on it , and told me to keep away from the theatre . " 
"He did n't say why ? " 
"He just said it was dangerous , and might ruin everything . " 
She broke suddenly , and kept repeating that she did n't go inside the theatre , in a sort of moaning voice . 
We left without another word . 
At the door I looked back . 
She was still playing with the wine glass and staring at the hearth . 
Somebody should have painted her , just like that . 
Chapter Twenty-Six 
THE THEATRE building looked just as square and just as plain as the first time , and the same shadows from trees swayed over the brickwork like curious fingers . 
There was the same spring scent of earth and woods , and the same feeling of remoteness , though one or two people were about . 
A few boys drifted up the drive , the little ones frisky and excited , the big ones with a certain condescending tolerance . 
And the sight of them had the same effect on Shale it always had — a kind of cynical contempt for the system that moulded them . 
Lights were on inside the theatre , and the windows curtained , but after the warm evening , it was like going into a colder place . 
The hall was about two-thirds full of boys . 
They kept bobbing up in their seats , chewing . 
There was a happy anticipatory drone . 
A prefect ushered us to our seats in the second row , and the school orchestra in front began teetering nervously on their violins . 
An amateurish air hung over the place like a pleasant infection . 
From the cover of my programme , I saw we were in for what is affectionately known as English middle-class comedy . 
I sat down and studied the people in the front row . 
Wylie 's head was just to my right , and at close quarters , his little grey waves looked thinner , like flimsy sponges on a pink sea bed . 
His wife was wearing a hat I was glad I was n't sitting behind . 
She had played a gleam of triumph steadily on Shale as we came up the row to our seats . 
When we sat down , her head snapped round to the front . 
Wylie acknowledged us with a curt nod and a faint drawing in of the eyebrows . 
He was rather subdued . 
It made him more human . 
Miss Teale looked almost soft and yielding , not so prim . 
She had a new defiance , and her eyes wandered round the hall confidently . 
She was wearing her hair long , and it made her look younger . 
Her gaze rested often on Carter , who was sitting with a bright smile next to my uncle . 
He leaned across affably and said in a whisper , "I say , they 've been looking for Ellam all evening . 
Apparently he 's nowhere to be found . 
Looks pretty mysterious do n't you think ? " 
I passed it on to Shale . 
He was reading his programme , and I suddenly felt him nudge me . 
He was pointing out the names of the cast and his finger was half way down the page . 
I read : 
" Laura Thistledown , the manager 's secretary ... played by William Barlow , 6 A. " 
He kept his finger there for my benefit and I saw what he meant . 
The Christian name — " Laura " . 
It should have signified something but my mind would n't grasp it . 
I gave him a puzzled glance , but he was settled back in his seat , staring at the top of the stage . 
He was sitting like that when the prefect shuffled up the row and whispered in his ear . 
" Willant wants a word with me , " Shale said , and we all went out . 
Heads turned , and there was a polite air of interest in the front row . 
Willant was in the entrance , a study of indecision . 
" Ellam 's nowhere to be found , " he said . 
" Nowhere in the school . " 
His fingers strayed to his waistcoat , and he tugged nervously like a man with a tricky point to make that was embarrassing him . 
He said : " In view of his behaviour this afternoon , I 'm not quite sure what I ought to do . " 
Shale said : " You could tell the police . " 
"But as it 's only two hours ago since he was here , it might look premature to say he 's disappeared . 
He might return . 
After all , he was suffering from — perhaps a nervous breakdown — it might be unwise to draw attention to it — " He stopped , at a loss . 
" It might be better to wait . " 
Ambrose said , with the air of a tactician who 'd weighed everything up . 
" You were pretty worried about him a while back , doctor , " Shale said . 
" "Desperate " I think was the word you used . 
You should tell the police . " 
"No doubt you 're right , " Willant said weakly . 
" But first I must start the play , we 're late as it is — so many things to think of — " 
He made for the door in the hall , and stepped back as Forster came the other way . 
Forster was wearing a stage-hand 's smock . 
His face was shining , and happier than I 'd ever seen it . 
He looked harassed when he saw us , but recovered , and said to Willant : " No sign of Mr. Ellam yet , headmaster . 
I really think we ought to start . " 
Willant took off his glasses and rubbed them . 
He gave a sigh . 
" Very well , Mr. Forster . 
I 'll just say a few words first . " 
He went in impulsively , glad to get away . 
Forster turned to follow him , but Shale said , " One thing before you go , Mr. Forster . 
The character Laura Thistledown . 
Who was to play her the last time — young Burnage ? " 
Forster nodded , and began to look worried . 
" That was all , " Shale said gently . 
" You can start the revels now . " 
We went back to our seats , and Willant , who 'd been talking to Wylie moved to the front of the stage and held up his hands for silence . 
The shuffling died away and he spoke his piece without any trouble . 
He managed to sound informal and light-hearted , like a vicar at a whist drive . 
When he 'd finished , he walked down the hall and I saw him go through the door at the back . 
I felt a certain admiration for the way he was keeping going . 
There was some polite applause , then the lights went out except for a glow beneath the curtain , and blobs of light on the orchestra 's music stands . 
The overture was brief and chronic . 
Shale lit a cigarette and relaxed , staring at the roof . 
The curtain opened on an amateurish set with a french window looking out on to a cardboard garden . 
It was slow getting underway , and the actors were elocution conscious , but it went down well with the audience . 
There was a lot of laughter , most of it at the expense of the actors , especially Currie playing a middle-aged matron with a large lop-sided bosom . 
The first act lasted some twenty minutes , and in the interval I watched the reactions of the staff . 
Miss Teale 's eyes were shining happily . 
Once she flashed me a smile — quite a becoming smile . 
Wylie had unbent a little , and was trying to give the impression of a stern man reflecting that a little nonsense was all right once in a while for boys . 
His wife was telling someone in a loud voice that so-and-so was good , and so-and-so was n't quite so good . 
Her standards were absolute . 
Carter was frankly in tucks about the whole thing . 
Shale seemed half asleep . 
Once , during the scene , he had watched Miss Teale for a long time , but his eyes had mostly been examining the top of the curtain , as if he were looking beyond , and trying to picture the dust and the gallery and the wooden platform . 
The lights went down again , and I saw Willant come back . 
I wondered if he had informed the police . 
A sudden gasp of hilarious delight made me look at the stage . 
The character Laura Thistledown had made her first entrance . 
She was meant to be pert and pretty , and something of a charmer . 
The boy playing the part wore a slim black costume , a dinky hat , and wobbled slightly on four-inch heels . 
He had a wig of blonde curls , and that made me think of the wig that was still missing , and that made me think of the green costume that was also missing , and I looked at Shale . 
He was sitting forward , watching the play intently . 
I felt a rise of excitement . 
There was some by-play going on on the stage . 
The idea seemed to be that " Laura Thistledown " was vamping the goofy nephew of the local aristocracy — a part played with gusto by a boy having trouble with a pencil-line moustache . 
Suddenly this young blood took the secretary in his arms , and said in an anguish of embarrassment : " Oh , Laura ! 
You 're exactly like the other girl . " 
The audience twittered with delight . 
I felt Shale stiffen and then relax , very slowly . 
He gripped my arm , and began to write something on the back of his programme . 
It could n't have been easy in the dark , but he wrote quickly . 
On the stage they were still fooling about , and the audience was making happy noises , but I was n't with them any more . 
Shale spoke in a low voice . 
" Read it outside — three important questions there . 
Go right away in the car , and put them to the servant , Mrs. Olroyd . 
Got it ? " 
I went as quietly as I could , but it seemed to me I made a lot of noise . 
Ambrose looked annoyed as I squeezed past him , but I did n't stop to explain . 
Outside I sat in the car , put a cigarette in my mouth , and read the programme in the falling light . 
It was n't easy to make out , some of Shale 's writing had run across the print , but I finally got it . 
Three questions , that was all . 
Just three questions . 
Put them to a nice old servant who had done her job well until one day she 'd been sacked , and you would get three answers . 
You had to get three answers because there could only be three answers and they would make sense of everything . 
I lit the cigarette , and sat there and smelt the scents from the wood , and watched the branches sway in the breeze , and listened to the evening song of a solitary bird , and everything was suddenly clear . 
The green costume and everything . 
I reached for the starter and checked my hand . 
Someone had just come from the theatre . 
I heard steps hurrying down the drive . 
I listened until they crunched away into silence , then I started the car . 
I thought I 'd see who it was as I passed , but there was nobody on the drive . 
Whoever it was must have taken to the woods . 
It took me half an hour or so to get there , and she was in with the old lady . 
I put the questions , and she answered them placidly . 
It did n't mean much to her , and I was neither relieved nor excited — I just knew what she would say . 
It was nearly dark when I got back to the Curlew. 1 FOLLOW THE TOFF 
IT was not the first time that the Honourable Richard Rollison had been followed . 
It would not be the last . 
It had happened in many cities , and more than once before in this fair city of Paris in the Spring . 
It had happened by day and by night , on land , on sea and in the air . 
Rollison himself , if challenged , would have said that he believed that every possible variation of the theme had been developed , yet on this day in May he knew that he had been wrong . 
It was the first time that such beauty had followed him . 
The beauty was undoubtedly English , although he had not yet heard her speak . 
She had that curiously indefinable quality , perhaps more rightly air , about her . 
It was not only the supreme simplicity of her black and white check suit , the coat short-waisted , the skirt just long enough to be in fashion , and to show most of the shapeliness of her legs . 
Nor was it those long , slim legs , or her height — five feet eight or nine he judged — or her complexion , although undoubtedly her complexion had something to do with it . 
It was a little bit of everything . 
She had followed him from the { Cafe2 de Paris , of which it was said that if one sat long enough one would meet all the rest of the world ; in fact at the { Cafe2 de Paris he had first realised that she had been interested in him . 
She had walked past the long lines of wicker tables and chairs , most of them empty . 
The glass screens of winter had been whisked away and the spring sunshine not only made life serene but almost made it possible to forget the surging traffic , the growl and snarl of engines , the bark and clatter of taxis , the all-pervading stench of petrol fumes mingling with even worse from diesel oil . 
As Rollison had sat over late { petit de2jeuner , wondering why the French who made the world 's worst coffee had a reputation for making it so well , and why the English , who made the world 's best , were supposed to make the worst , the woman had walked past . 
She had looked at him and then walked quickly away . 
He had not been in a hurry , however ; such grace and slenderness and beauty were all too rare . 
He watched her go , a little pensive because he doubted whether he would ever have an excuse to meet her , perhaps not even to see her again . 
But soon she had turned back from the corner by the { Place de l'Ope2ra . 
That in itself had not been unusual ; people often walked as far as that , and then turned back . 
This time Rollison pretended to take no notice of her , but observed that she stared intently at him , and looked back at him several times . 
By then , Rollison 's interest had become much stronger . 
For one thing , he realised just how remarkable the woman was to look at , and remarkable women could usually make his heart beat a little faster . 
For another thing , he was beginning to feel sure that she had recognised him and wanted to talk but could not summon up the courage — if courage was the word . 
He could make it easy for her , or make it comparatively hard . 
He would have made it easy but for the little man . 
This little man was almost certainly the man who had swindled Alice Day , who was now on her way to Australia . 
He fitted Mike 's description to a T , and he spent some time at stations , outside night-clubs and other tourist haunts , offering money at a good rate of exchange . 
Only a few people seemed to deal with him , and Rollison planned to catch him red-handed with forged notes . 
Now this same man was following the Englishwoman , and Rollison did not try to guess whether she knew it or not . 
If she knew , she was taking no notice — unless , of course , awareness of the surveillance of the little man kept her from approaching Rollison boldly . 
It was a mildly intriguing situation , and quite entertaining ; it would have been amusing but for the woman 's obvious anxiety . 
Beauty in distress was never even remotely comic . 
An ordinary man , assessing the situation as Rollison assessed it , would almost certainly have found an excuse to talk to the woman , and might possibly have tried to shoo the little man off . 
There were times when Rollison — known as the Toff to the police of seven continents and to the criminals of six , would have taken such direct action , but this was not one of them . 
He had two reasons for being intrigued : his Aunt Gloria 's two hundred pounds , and this beauty . 
At ten minutes to eleven the woman was some way along the { Boulevard des Capucines in the direction of the Madeleine , and the little man was fifty yards behind her . 
Every motor car in Paris seemed to be crammed into the road which had seemed wide in the days of horse carriages . 
Rollison called for his bill , paid , and allowed himself to be swept across the road with a surge of human beings all racing to make sure that they reached the opposite pavement before the roaring monsters of iron and steel were unleashed at the whirl of a gendarme 's white baton or a trill on his hidden whistle . 
Once on the far side , Rollison watched the woman , and he was tall enough to see and be seen without difficulty . 
When he was sure that she had spotted him , he discontinued a tentative interest in a window which exhibited every refinement of feminine foundation in black , pink , and pale mauve silk , and strolled towards the Madeleine . 
The woman walked in the same direction on the other side of the road . 
She followed him along the street opposite the church of the mammoth pillars towards the arid wastes of the { Place de la Concorde , and then by devious dangerous routes towards the Seine . 
Now and again Rollison made sure that not only the woman but the little man was behind him . 
Then , as if at a loose end , he crossed to the { Rue de Rivoli and became one of the thousands of tourists promenading beneath the arches and seduced by a million model Eiffel Towers and a thousand Joan of Arcs . 
The woman drew closer . 
Rollison dawdled . 
He thought that this time she would speak , for she actually passed within a yard of him . 
He imagined that he could hear her breathing agitatedly — but she passed without stopping . 
Rollison continued to study a window resplendent in Arab leatherwork and Moroccan silver , as the little man drew nearer . 
This little man was quite remarkable too . 
The task of following an individual through a city the size of Paris is not easy even for those people physically adapted to it , but he was only about five feet two inches high . 
Heads and shoulders of all sizes , chests and bosoms of all shapes , arms and even hands got in his way , but doggedly he kept on the trail . 
He was n't remarkable in any other way ; in fact he was the type who could easily get lost in a crowd . 
Rollison judged him to be French , not only because he was blue-jowled and wore a slightly faded beret , but because he chain-smoked Skol cigarettes ; only a Frenchman could have such hardihood and courage . 
He had a pinched nose which looked as if it had been pushed to one side , and a little bloodless mouth , a surprisingly square and thrusting chin , and a well cut brown suit ; the beret did not quite match up to this . 
He wore suede shoes too of dark brown , a shade darker than the brown of his suit . 
All of this Mike had described very well . 
The woman had gone by . 
The little Frenchman was following . 
Rollison judged his moment , and stepped into the little man 's path . 
There was a ridiculous contretemps of dither and dart , as if each man was trying to give way to the other , but in fact Rollison did not mean to give way until the moment was right . 
So they collided . 
A woman gasped : " Oo ! " as only someone born in Blackpool could . 
The little man reeled back , as if dazed . 
Rollison gave a dazzling smile and apologised , and allowed the man to pass . 
Then , watched by at least a dozen people , he darted his left hand towards the inside of his coat pocket . 
Every Method school of acting would have approved his performance . 
He looked startled , aghast , appalled , angry , and finally vengeful . 
Then in the clearest and loudest of English he called : 
" Stop thief ! " 
Fifty people looked round , mostly English and American all open-mouthed , some ready to fling themselves forward with great courage , most trying to make sure that they could get out of the way . 
" Stop thief ! " cried Rollison again , and moved with astonishing rapidity through the crowd towards the little Frenchman , who had not hurried and had not looked round . 
The Englishwoman was now staring at those massed gilt models of the Eiffel Tower , the Notre Dame , and Joan of Arc on a gilded statue , the original of which was only a hundred yards away . 
Rollison pounced on him , gripped his shoulder , and spun him round . 
The man gaped . 
A gendarme standing in the roadway trilled on his whistle , swung his baton and charged forward . 
A crowd collected , most of them people at a safe distance , but one sturdy Yorkshireman and his wife came to Rollison 's support . 
" Is that reet ? " the Yorkshireman demanded . 
" Did he take summat out of thy pocket ? " 
"The scoundrel stole my wallet , " asserted Rollison , and as he spoke the gendarme came up and rested a hand on the butt of his revolver , warningly , and machine-gunned a dozen questions . 
" I do n't understand a word you 're saying , " lied Rollison hotly . 
" This man pretended to collide with me just now , and stole my wallet . " 
"That is not so , " declared the little man , in highly accented English . 
{ 3 " Eet is the big lie . " 
The gendarme demanded , in French , to know what exactly had happened . 
Rollison tapped his pocket , thrust his hand inside , drew it out empty , and declared : 
" He — stole — my — wallet . " 
{ 3That — ees — the — lie . " 
{ " M'sieu , je demande que vous parlez Francais . " 
"He stole — " 
The little man turned to the gendarme and poured out an earnest , even an impassioned denial — he had not touched Rollison 's wallet , he had not touched Rollison . 
He was a law-abiding citizen , he was not to be insulted , he — 
" He stole my wallet ! " roared Rollison . 
" Eeeh , lad , better leave it to me , " said the Yorkshireman and began to talk in surprisingly colloquial French in spite of an unbelievable admixture of Yorkshire accent . 
Even the little man was silenced , and the gendarme appeared to begin to understand . 
As the Yorkshireman finished , the gendarme held his baton at the ready and spoke with the air of a Solomon : 
" If this man stole your wallet , he will have it with him now . " 
Rollison just saved himself from agreeing in French and asked the Yorkshireman : 
" What 's all the blathering about ? " 
"He says that if this man stole tha wallet he 'd still have it on him . " 
" Fair enough , " agreed Rollison . 
" So why not search him ? " 
{ 3 " You look , you see — nothing , " declared the little Frenchman . 
He gripped the edges of his coat , and flung it open at arms ' length , as if he hoped to be able to take off and fly with these homemade wings . 
He was undoubtedly convinced that the wallet was not there , perhaps because he had never met Rollison before . 
The gendarme stared , the Yorkshireman gaped and glanced with earthy satisfaction at Rollison . 
A dozen other people craned forward to see Rollison 's crocodile leather wallet showing fully an inch above the Frenchman 's pocket . 
" Eeeh , lad , " said the Yorkshireman , " tha 'd best leave talking to me . 
Just tell me where thou 'rt staying and I 'll talk to copper for thee . " 
"I do n't know what I would have done without you , " said Rollison warmly . 
Concluding chapters of a great mystery novel That long wet summer by JOAN AIKEN 
They told her their insane plan — gloating and triumphant — trying to force her hand ... 
The story so far : 
JANE DRUMMOND was trying to keep her marriage together — for the sake of her children , CAROLINE and DONALD . 
Her architect husband , GRAHAM , was selfish and self-centred , living above his income to " keep up appearances . " 
He encouraged her to return to work while MYFANWY MACGREGOR was engaged to look after the children . 
Myfanwy and her husband TIM , seemed to have some hold over Graham . 
Living near the Drummonds was TOM ROLAND , a TV celebrity Jane once met at a party , whom Graham tried to cultivate because Tom was famous . 
Jane was driven home from the station each night by Tom and their friendship grew . 
She suspected that Mrs. MacGregor — whom she was beginning to detest — could not read or write and was horrified when she found an anonymous letter in Caroline 's handwriting . 
The note was for Graham and read : YOUR WIFE IS CARRYING ON WITH MR . 
ROLAND . 
Between the MacGregors and her strained relationship with Graham , Jane 's life became unbearable . 
She was pleased when her old friend , ELLIE came to stay — but surprised to see that Ellie and Tom obviously knew each other , though neither admitted this . 
Then Ellie — a scatter-brained blonde — told Jane she was pregnant . 
Jane promised to help all she could — and to adopt the child . 
Tim MacGregor tried to kiss Jane — and for a second she mistook him for Graham . 
Later , in their bedroom , she told Graham the MacGregors must go . 
" I 'm terrified of them , " she said . 
" You 're terrified ? " 
Graham answered . 
" What do you think I am ? 
Jane , do you know who that man is ? " 
Now read on : 
" NO , of course I do n't know who MacGregor is , " Jane said , trembling . 
" How could I ? 
Who is he ? " 
"He 's my cousin , " Graham said . 
" Your cousin ? 
Then that 's why — " 
" He used to live in Tangier , " Graham went on , ignoring her . 
" It was he who suggested I should go out there . 
He had a factory — a makeshift hole , in a tin shed , making plastic doorknobs , " he added with a sour smile , seeing Jane 's look of incredulity . 
" But for all that , Tim 's a clever chap . 
Doorknobs were n't his main line . 
He had quite a nice sideline in penicillin and black market machine oil . " 
Things began to fall into place in Jane 's mind . 
" And you helped him ? " 
"Only occasionally . " 
Graham 's voice was angry , defensive . 
" Only when clients were n't biting . 
At first it was all okay . 
Then there was a bit of trouble . " 
The curtain blew in above Jane 's head and she heard a volley of rain spatter on the window-sill . 
I ought to get up and shut the window , she thought , and lay still , thinking of how she had first met Graham in Tangier — the hot sun , the white roofs , the charming things he had said . 
Now it seemed like some twopence-coloured fairy-tale . 
" I was helping him at that time , " Graham said . 
" The profits were going to be rather good . 
But someone had used a batch of Tim 's oil for making salad cream or something , and a lot of people had died . 
Things had been tightened up and they were on the lookout . 
We were followed into Spanish Morocco and we had to get away fast from the rendezvous . 
There was a bit of shooting and Tim got hit . 
We — I thought he was killed . 
There was n't time to make sure . " 
"What happened to him ? " 
"We had to leave him behind and he was picked up . 
He was sent to jail for three years . 
Quite a short sentence really . 
So I decided the game was n't worth the risk . 
It was rather a murky business , " Graham said with a flicker of his normal self-righteousness . 
" And it was just after that I met you , so I opted out and decided to come home and set up as a law-abiding citizen . " 
"I see . " 
Jane turned away from him , willing herself to ask the next question . 
" Graham , that legacy from your uncle in Scotland — " 
" Well ? " 
His voice was wary . 
" Was it really the profits from that — that consignment ? " 
His silence said yes . 
" Why did you lie to me about it ? " 
"Well , damn it , I hardly knew you . 
I could n't very well have told you a thing like that then . " 
He was injured . 
" You thought the world of me . " 
And so you did of me , Jane thought , with a sudden , uncharacteristically hard perception . 
I was broke and in a dreary job ; just the same , Daddy and I had something you had n't got that you needed on your climb up the ladder . 
Needed as much as a new house , or a gardener , or Tom Roland 's mower . 
" And MacGregor — what happened to his share of the profit ? " 
Jane asked . 
" For the Lord 's sake , Jane , must we go over all this ? 
It 's ancient history now and I 'm tired , I want to go to sleep . 
I 've got enough to worry about ; all I ask is that you do n't antagonize Tim and his wife . " 
"You took his share , is that it ? " 
"Well , what else could I do ? " said Graham sulkily . 
" It did n't amount to much , anyway , and there was no one to leave it with . 
Naturally , I thought when he came out I 'd have done well enough to pay him back . 
It was just bad luck I could n't . " 
"Where was his wife while he was in prison ? " 
"In Wales with her family . " 
Jane knew that she ought to feel pity for the MacGregors , but she thought of Tim 's cunning sidelong look , his wife 's hostile air of concealed knowledge , and could find nothing but loathing . 
" We 'll have to sell the house , " she said . 
" Sell it and pay him what he thinks you owe him and move away from here . " 
"Are you mad ? " 
Graham said with violence . 
" Sell this place ? 
Just when I 've got it finished ? 
Just when we 're making some useful friends ? 
I 'll pay Tim off somehow ; it 's just a matter of time . 
All we have to do is keep him quiet for a bit . 
He ca n't really do anything . " 
He spoke with the old confidence that had once sounded so reassuring to Jane . 
Now she knew how much it was worth . 
" But Graham — " 
" Stop nagging , stop nagging , " he said with passionate irritation , and turned towards her , holding her in a tense , nervous grip . 
His voice changed . 
" Just let's forget about it all , shall we ? " 
Jane was used to these sudden exigencies of Graham 's desire when the world had gone against him . 
Long after he was sleeping , one arm flung possessively across her , she lay awake , staring at the greying sky , while slow , cold tears trickled backwards into the roots of her hair . 
JANE made Ellie stay in bed until after lunch next day , hoping an affectionate smile and the Sunday papers would serve as sufficient evidence of sympathy until she had gathered herself together . 
To listen with constructive attention to Ellie 's problem was more than she could manage just yet . 
Graham went out immediately after breakfast and was absent all morning . 
When Jane collected Ellie 's tray after lunch , Caroline went with her and stayed chatting to Ellie while she dressed . 
Ellie was devoted to the children and began brushing Caroline 's hair and tying it in ribbons . 
Then she offered to take Caroline and Donald for a walk . 
Jane thankfully accepted , put the baby in his pram and saw them off . 
She thought she would go to church ; that might clear her thoughts and bring her to a decision . 
Graham , who had come back just before lunch and been completely silent through the meal , walked into their bedroom as she was putting on a hat . 
" I want Ellie out of here by tonight , " he said . 
" She 's not going . " 
Jane 's tone was firm , light ; she stooped over a drawer , rummaging for gloves . 
Graham was obviously at a loss before her unexpected mood . 
At last , angry and irresolute — " You 'll be sorry for this ... " he muttered and turned on his heel . 
She could hear his steps , heavy and defeated , dragging down the stairs . 
Something made her look out of the window . 
MacGregor had arrived and was wheeling the mower out on to the lawn . 
His wife had installed herself on a rug with Susan . 
The active force of her own hate startled Jane . 
She went into the garden . 
MacGregor had paused to say something to his wife and Jane was able to address them both . 
" I understand I 've been doing you an injustice , " she said coldly . 
" Naturally , if I 'd realized that my husband owed you money it would have been different . 
However , now I have found out it makes it easier to say this . 
I do n't want ever to see either of you again . 
I shall get a full-time job and pay you back myself , if necessary . 
But if you pester Graham or send any more anonymous messages about me I shall go straight to the police . 
" I 'm going to afternoon service now and when I come back I shall expect to find that you 've packed up your things and gone . " 
She walked on without waiting for an answer , leaving four malevolent eyes fixed on her back . 
A feeble sun was trying to shine . 
Little Susan , sitting in a patch of sand on the drive , raised an indifferent , vacant face to her , and Jane shuddered , seeing suddenly a resemblance to Caroline . 
This child was her cousin ! 
There were few people in the church . 
Jane , at first hardly able to follow the service , presently found herself calmer . 
The office will take me on full time , she decided hopefully , and I 'm sure Ellie can be persuaded to look after the children for a bit . 
If I contribute all my salary to pay the MacGregors , Graham will surely agree . 
She ignored a small warning voice that said : Leave Graham . 
Take the children and get away while you can , before you get dragged in any deeper . 
For a brief moment she considered asking advice of the vicar , the kind old man who had christened Donald . 
But the story was not hers alone . 
It was Graham 's , MacGregor 's , even Ellie 's . 
The MacGregors might be a repellent pair , but they had a right to the money Graham owed them ; it was not for her to be sanctimonious about how they had come by it . 
And Ellie — she had promised to help Ellie and would not run out on her now . 
Tom , she thought . 
If only I could have asked Tom 's advice . 
But now it 's too late for that . 
WHEN she walked home after the service , it was raining hard . 
She had no coat with her , and hurried up the village street , head bent against the cold , driving gusts . 
" Ellie ! " she called , as soon as she was inside the house . 
" Shut the bathroom window , will you ? 
The rain always comes in on that side . " 
There was no answer . 
Were Ellie and the children not back from their walk yet ? 
They would be soaked . 
She went into the sitting-room — and stopped short . 
The MacGregors were there , Tim lounging on the piano stool , Susan on the floor , Mrs. MacGregor upright and expressionless on the sofa . 
" I told you to leave this house , " Jane said . 
" Oh , madam , " Tim said softly , " you would n't expect us to leave in this rain , would you ? " 
His narrow black eyes slid past her , rested on his wife , came back to Jane again . 
" Graham ! " 
Jane called . 
There was no reply . 
Apart from herself and the MacGregors , the house appeared to be empty . 
A fear began to take hold of Jane . 
" Graham ! " she called again . 
" He was out sunbathing , " MacGregor said , smiling . 
" Very keen he is on getting brown . 
He went out to get a good tan . 
I should n't wonder but what he 's still there . 
Asleep maybe . " 
He nodded down the garden , and Jane 's disbelieving eyes saw something on the sloping lawn — a round blob — Graham 's head ? 
Was he lying on the grass in the pelting rain ? 
She flung open the french windows and ran over the sodden grass , calling frantically , " Graham ! 
Graham ! " 
WHISPERING TONGUES BLAMED HER 
WHEN BOB ARCHER 'S wife ANNE , disappears , the police believe it is because she is guilty of poisoning Bob 's mother . 
Actually , however , she is being held prisoner by VERA CORBETT , Mrs ARCHER 'S ex-maid . 
It was Vera who killed Bob 's mother and she knows Anne can give her away . 
ARTHUR HEDLEY , Vera 's boy-friend , also knows of her guilt , but he is too deeply involved to back out . 
It is a shock to Vera when she discovers that the old house where she is keeping Anne is not uninhabited , as she believed , but is occupied by an old man and his housekeeper . 
And the grounds are guarded by a pair of fierce dogs , so there is no escape . 
Luckily , however , the old man seldom comes near the wing where Vera is hiding Anne and has no idea they are there . 
One day when he does come he leaves behind a local paper . 
Studying it casually Vera sees she has been left £2000 in Mrs Archer 's will . 
" Two thousand pounds ! " she gasps turning to look down at Anne . 
" It 's a fortune ! 
I 'm getting out of here , no matter what happens to you ! " 
Now Read On . 
VERA stared at the paper , her brain reeling . 
Two thousand pounds ! 
Already her mind was racing . 
When you came to think of it , what was there to stop her turning up to claim the money ? 
The police had nothing on her , especially now Anne was out of the way . 
There were all sorts of difficulties to overcome , of course . 
First , there was the problem of getting out of the house . 
Second , the question of what she could do with Anne . 
Finally , how was she going to explain to the police why she had disappeared ? 
The second and third snags she pushed aside for the moment . 
She would find some way round them when the time came . 
She 'd come back for Anne and hide her somewhere else . 
She 'd think of some story to tell the police . 
But getting out of the house unseen — that baffled her . 
Those two bull terriers were never out of the garden and it was easy to see how savage they were . 
Why , whenever a tradesman called at the door , look how they raced round , snarling and barking until he went away again . 
Then suddenly Vera caught her breath . 
That was her answer ! 
Next time a tradesman came ! 
Sometimes he would be there for three or four minutes . 
If she was quick , if she opened a downstairs window the moment the dogs rushed round to snarl at the tradesman , if she ran as fast as she could to the railway embankment , she might do it ! 
With sudden decision she began to bind and gag Anne . 
" I 'll be back for you — later . " 
She gave a mirthless laugh . 
" You wo n't be very comfortable , but you 'll be safe enough for twenty-four hours . " 
In her dull , dazed way , Anne did n't even try to struggle . 
Without a backward glance , Vera tiptoed downstairs to wait . 
When it came to the bit , every second would count . 
She slipped the catch off one window and stood waiting impatiently . 
It seemed hours before her chance came . 
The dogs began to bark furiously , but the sound died away as they raced round to the other side of the house . 
Vera threw up the window and scrambled out , racing blindly towards the fence at the foot of the garden . 
Seconds later , panting , her coat torn and her hands bleeding , she tumbled to safety on the other side . 
She lay for a full minute , getting her breath back . 
But there was triumph in her heart . 
She 'd made it ! 
She straightened presently and dusted herself down . 
Then she stumbled along the embankment till she reached a point right beside the main Mardsley road . 
There she caught a bus that would take her right into Mardsley . 
It was later than Vera had realised — nearly midday — but that suited her well enough . 
Before she went to the police station she wanted to have a word with Arthur Hedley . 
Then , if the police did hold her for questioning , Arthur could do something about getting Anne away from that house . 
The bus dropped her almost opposite the factory where Arthur worked . 
The rest was easy , just a matter of waiting in the shadow of a doorway until the men began to trickle out . 
Presently Arthur came out . 
He was alone . 
" Arthur . " 
She spoke his name very quietly . 
He spun round . 
" Vera ! " 
His eyes darted uneasily up and down the street . 
" Cross over , quick ! " he muttered . 
It must come now — the showdown between Anne Vardon and her greatest enemy . 
"We 'll go to Church Walk — there wo n't be anyone about . " 
They walked quickly , not speaking until they got to the deserted lane . 
Then Arthur wheeled on her sharply . 
" Why have you come here ? 
How did — ? " 
"Take it easy . 
I had to come back when I discovered about the money . " 
"You know that ? " he gasped . 
" But how ? " 
"Never mind that just now . 
Just listen carefully . 
I told you where Anne and I were hiding . 
Well , I got out , but I had to leave her behind . 
But we 've got to get her away to some other place as soon as we can . " 
"But what about the dogs ? 
You said — " 
"We can throw them some poisoned meat . 
But there 's just one thing . 
You 'll have to go alone if the police hold me for questioning . " 
"The police ! " 
"Do n't be a fool , Arthur ! " she said sharply . 
" I ca n't claim the money without seeing the police . 
I 'm on my way there now . " 
He stared at her . 
" You 'll never get away with it ! " 
"Why not ? " she asked coolly . 
" The police have n't anything on me . 
The only danger is if you lose your head and do anything silly . 
Now off you go . 
If the police do n't keep me I 'll be waiting for you when you finish tonight . " 
VERA CORBETT knew now just what she was going to tell the police . 
It was gloriously simple with Anne out of the way and unable to contradict her . 
All the same , her heart was beating a little faster with nervousness as she walked up the steps of the police station . 
As it happened , Detective-Sergeant Willis was with the desk sergeant when she went in . 
He glanced idly round and stiffened sharply . 
" You ! " he gasped . 
Then he recovered himself a little . 
" Would you mind stepping into my room ? " 
Apparently completely at ease , she watched him close the door carefully behind them . 
" Now then . " 
He turned to face her . 
" Where have you been ? 
Why did you go away ? " 
"I 've been in London . " 
She gave him the address where she really had stayed . 
" But if you want to know why I went there , you 'll have to ask Anne Archer . 
It was her idea . " 
The detective frowned . 
" Her idea ? 
What are you driving at ? " 
"She paid me to go and live there under another name . 
Do n't ask me why . 
She was paying good money , so I did n't ask too many questions . 
Besides , there was no reason why I should n't go . 
I 'd quarrelled with my boy friend , and I was n't happy at home . 
So I just went like she asked me to , and told nobody . " 
He was staggered . 
" But — good heavens , you must have some idea why she asked you to do a thing like that ! " 
She shook her head . 
" I tell you I did n't ask many questions . " 
It was such an incredible story that it rang completely true — because Willis thought he knew the answer to his own question . 
All the same ... 
" I suppose it never occurred to you that you were reported missing ? " he said sharply . 
" Did n't you read the papers ? " 
She shrugged . 
" I 've never been one for reading newspapers . 
I mean , the London ones . 
It 's different with local ones . " 
He swore softly under his breath . 
" What brought you back , then ? " 
"Anne Archer stopped sending me money , so I decided to come and see her . " 
"Anne Archer stopped sending you money ? 
That 's why you came back ? 
When did she stop ? " 
He shot the questions at her . 
" About a week ago . " 
He nodded slowly . 
It all fitted . 
" But why come to me ? " he asked sharply . 
" When I got here I bought a local paper . 
I read how old Mrs Archer had died and left me some money . " 
She smiled at him innocently . 
" I could n't believe my eyes at first . 
But I thought the best thing to do was come and see you . 
I knew you 'd tell me what to do . " 
He was silent a moment . 
" Did you know that Anne Archer accused you of trying to poison her mother-in-law ? " 
"Me ? " 
Vera pretended to be completely staggered . 
Then anger came into her face . 
" What a dreadful thing to say ! 
How could she ! 
What possible reason could I have ? " 
"There 's the money Mrs Archer left you in her will , " he pointed out sharply . 
" Do n't be silly ! 
That will was n't made until after I 'd gone away ! " 
Willis fairly pounced on that . 
" How do you know ? " 
"Because I witnessed all the other wills she ever made , " Vera said simply . 
" And I read them all . " 
Her face darkened again . 
" Just wait till I see Anne Archer ! 
She ca n't get away with saying things like that ! " 
"Anne Archer has disappeared , " he said quietly . 
" Disappeared ! " 
Once again she looked staggered . 
" But why on earth — " And then she broke off , catching her breath . 
" Do n't you see ? " she breathed . 
" It all fits in ! 
She sent me to London so she could accuse me of trying to kill the old lady ! 
Then for some reason she got the wind up and cleared out . " 
That was exactly what Willis had been thinking , too . 
" Very well . " 
His voice was a little weary . 
" You can go , but I 'll want you again . " 
"I can go ? " 
Vera echoed indignantly . 
" What do you mean ? 
I came here of my own free will , and do n't you forget it . 
I told you I came to ask you what I should do about claiming the money . " 
Briefly he explained what she must do , then saw her out . 
Vera walked down the street more confident than ever . 
WILLIS had said nothing to her about going to see Bob Archer . 
But the first place she made for was his home . 
She reasoned that it would be the natural thing for her to do if she really had been innocent . 
Bob gasped when he saw her . 
" Vera ! 
Where on earth have you come from ? " 
"I heard about your trouble , Mr Archer , " she said quietly . 
" I mean about your mother 's death and the way your wife has disappeared . 
I — I just thought I 'd like to say how sorry I am . " 
He looked at her sharply . 
" But where have you been ? 
What made you come back ? 
Did you read about my mother leaving you money ? " 
She shook her head . 
" Not till I got back to Mardsley ! " 
"Then why did you come ? " 
She hesitated . 
" I — I do n't really like to tell you , " she said reluctantly . 
" It was easier to tell the police . " 
But she did tell him all the same . 
Bob listened in silence , his face strained . 
But when she finished his eyes were hard . 
" These are very grave accusations you 're making , Vera , especially as my wife is n't here to defend herself ! " 
"I do n't care ! " 
Vera said hotly . 
" How dare she accuse me of poisoning your mother ? " 
Her voice softened . 
" Oh , Mr Archer , I do n't want to hurt your feelings at a time like this , but there 's a lot I could tell you . " 
She pursed her lips . 
" She 's a bad one . 
Look at the names she called your mother — the things she even said about you behind your back . 
You 'd never believe — " 
" That 's enough ! " he cut in harshly . 
" I do n't care ! " 
Vera repeated angrily . 
" I know Anne Vardon better than you do , even if she is your wife . 
Do n't forget who she is ! 
Remember what her father was ! " 
Bob 's jaw tightened . 
" I think you 've said quite enough , " he said harshly . 
" You 'd better go now . " 
She shrugged and turned on her heel . 
Short Story by HUMPHREY ap EVANS The Assessor 
" YES , " said Mr. Ridley , taking off a pair of very thick rimless glasses and wiping them over with a monogrammed handkerchief . 
" You have to be a student of human nature to be any good as an Assessor — any good to the Company , that is , " he added . 
" Without appearing to be unhelpful or hard-hearted , you 've just got to cut the claims as low as you can . " 
He replaced his glasses , turning them upside down and swivelling the earpieces round . 
" Of course I 've been in this a long time now , " he went on , " and although I know there 's a lot of rot talked about a sixth sense and all that , I think I have got something that helps me size a thing up pretty well . 
Not every case who comes before you is trying it on , you know , but most of them are out for what they can get . 
And who would n't be ? " he asked , turning round and looking me full in the face , through his upside down glasses . 
His eyes appeared enormous when one looked back at him , like watery amoeba in a microscope . 
I began to feel a bit amoebic myself , almost as if it were I who had been found "trying it on . " 
"Yes , of course , " I agreed hurriedly . 
" But many of your cases must be really deserving ones , are n't they ? 
I mean , bread-winners disabled with mouths to feed , and all that sort of thing ? " 
"Ah , yes , there is a bit of that , of course , " he said , " But we usually have some confidential reports beforehand which give a good idea . 
I 'm a medical man myself though : I used to be a G.P. in the Midlands before I went over whole time as Claims Assessor . 
They do n't know I 'm a medico when they come up before me . 
I get some yarns spun me sometimes , I can tell you . " 
He chuckled moistly , clouding his reversible glasses which had to be removed again for demisting . 
" You take this case this afternoon , that I 've come up about . 
If this chap 's shoulder — his right shoulder , too — if it 's as bad as he says , then of course he wo n't be able to work at all with his right hand or arm — perhaps never again , which is a serious thing for a family man with seven young children . 
" I ca n't go making mistakes , can I ? 
His employers have been sued for £10,000 — loss of potential earnings , inconvenience , suffering — all the usual claims trotted out . 
" It 's a bit easier when you 've got a chap with something you can actually see that 's wrong . 
It 's these fellows with " loss of concentration " or " intermittent headaches " or " recurrent depression " that are the most difficult . 
How can you prove " loss of concentration " ? 
He does n't have to prove he ever could concentrate . 
That 's one of the little problems I have to sort out . 
Headaches are the same — nothing to go on or prove either way . 
A bad headache 's a rotten thing , of course , if you really have one . " 
"What about the " recurrent depressions " ? " 
I said . 
" Well , " he replied , " That 's difficult too . 
It 's easy to go about with a long face saying how terrible everything is , and who 's to say he does n't really feel perfectly all right ? " 
We pondered this situation for a moment or two in silence . 
As a new member of this Department of Insurance , I was being sent round by the Company to have a first-hand look at the way the Assessor worked . 
Mr. Ridley was reckoned a wizard at the job . 
They said he saved the firm tens of thousands of pounds a year , but nobody knew just how he managed it . 
I was looking forward to seeing him in action . 
I had heard a lot about his " Psychology " angle , but could not see how this would help in most of the cases . 
The " case " up that afternoon had claimed that because the management had not allowed a wide enough passageway between two machines he had banged against one of them , seriously affecting his whole nervous system down the right side of his body . 
He could , he claimed , only raise his right arm to elbow level very slowly and with great difficulty , and higher than his elbow , it would not go at all . 
He had already been off work for a month , and the arm had not " responded to treatment , " much to the surprise of the doctors . 
It had in fact got gradually worse , according to the man himself . 
He needed help to put on his clothes , and had been obliged to learn to do all manner of things with his left hand when he was not the least bit left-handed , naturally . 
His wife would have to give up her evening work to look after him : that meant a regular allowance out of the Insurance to compensate her . 
He would need some form of electric tricycle to get him about , and a small garage built to house it . 
The injury , he had been told by a friend , might easily spread to his legs , and in view of the worry about this , the sum of £10,000 would probably be quite inadequate . 
His "statement of basis of claim " ran to three sides of foolscap " dictated by me and written by my wife , owing to the injury what prevents my writing . " 
Mr. Ridley was unperturbed by this voluminous evidence of the state of the man 's injuries . 
" I 'm afraid it does n't seem quite right to me somehow , " he said , pulling off the glasses yet again . 
It was a very irritating gesture : perhaps , I thought , he did it deliberately to put his cases off their guard , to take their minds off themselves and to give themselves away . 
" You see , if he really is as bad as he says , the sensitivity of some nerves would be bound to be affected at the finger extremities even supposing there has been no bruising of tissue . 
The doctors apparently can find nothing actually wrong . 
It 's only that he maintains he can not raise his arm . 
When it was raised up quickly by a doctor when he was n't expecting it , he let out such a scream that the wretched doctor thought he had torn the arm right off ! 
After that , they have been a bit chary about wrenching it up and down . 
" However , " he added after a minute or two , " I think it 's time we went over and saw for ourselves . 
Come along with me . " 
We walked across to the Assessment Office and up into Mr. Ridley 's room . 
There was nothing particular about it . 
Just the usual desk ( back to the light of course ) , a couple of chairs , a reading chart on the wall , and a bookcase about six feet tall with a few papers and other oddments on it . 
Mr. Ridley spoke to the attendant : " Send Mr. Alton in now , would you please ? " 
A few moments passed . 
Then there was a shuffling outside on the linoleum , and the door opened . 
Mr. Alton 's left hand pushed at the handle , for his right arm was hanging dejectedly at his side , patently useless and perhaps even causing pain . 
" Ah , Mr. Alton , come in , how do you do ? " smiled Mr. Ridley holding out a hand . 
The limp right arm quivered , but quick as a flash the sturdy remaining left hand took its place for a brave handshake . 
" I 've been thinking your case over , " said Mr. Ridley , sitting down at once at his desk , leaving Mr. Alton standing without a chair . 
" It is certainly one of the most unfortunate I have come across and our hearts go out to you and your family in this serious blow . 
I think £15,000 is the least we can reasonably offer in compensation , and if you are agreeable to this , I am authorized to write you a cheque this very minute in full settlement , without ado . " 
After rubbing his glasses as usual , Mr. Ridley pulled out a fountain pen , took the cap off and briskly prepared to write . 
Mr. Alton evidently could hardly believe his ears , mercifully unaffected by his injury . 
He could only nod his agreement . 
" Yes , I think that would do very well , " he managed after a moment when power of speech returned . 
" Right then , " said Mr. Ridley , pen at the ready . 
" Just hand me down my cheque book from that bookcase , will you , and we 'll get it cleared up . " 
Alas for poor Mr. Alton . 
I did feel a little sorry for him . 
The bookcase was on his right . 
From the top , the bright blue cheque book was plainly visible . 
A step forward , and Mr. Alton 's arm — his right arm , that poor injured right arm upon whose failing strength a wife and many small children had depended for their daily bread — swung up as easily and quickly as that of a policeman on point duty . 
Rapid fingers closed upon the beckoning cheque book with new found health . 
He was halfway to Mr. Ridley 's desk before the awful implication of his action dawned upon Mr. Alton . 
His face went scarlet , then drained . 
Tiny beads of sweat appeared . 
He turned and left the room without a word . 
" You see what I mean , " said Mr. Ridley , as he put the cap back on his unused pen . 
" The study of human nature is a great help in this profession . " 
Short story by NAT EASTON The way of escape 
THE wind had slapped the notice so hard and often you had to lean with it to read the faded letters , Unfit For Motorists . 
I smiled , patting the weather-roughened wood . 
I slipped the car off the track onto the moor , left it behind the V-shaped ruin of an old stone barn — pointing back the way I 'd come . 
Light hearted , sure of myself somehow in my completely new outfit , I walked to the edge of the great heather brow and looked down its tumbling slopes to the sea below . 
For several minutes I stood there , just wishing and willing , and taking in the spread of land and ocean , then I slithered into the scoured out track and plunged downwards eagerly . 
The banks were high , the surface like a forgotten river bed — dry , bread-coloured mud and stones the years had smoothed but not budged . 
About halfway down , a path of bare , trodden soil led to a gate in a high privet hedge . 
I stopped , looking over at it , pep-talking myself , then braced up and went forward . 
The bungalow was as neat a piece of transplanted suburbia as a man could imagine . 
The path was concrete , straight as a railway line . 
On each side there was a shaved square of lawn the size of a blanket with a round bed of roses in the middle of it , slap in the middle . 
Each lawn was overlooked by a bay window , one packed with red geraniums . 
A wire basket of flowers hung over the front door . 
The glass of the windows and the leaded door panel shone as though the leather had just left it . 
The green and cream paintwork took a bath regularly . 
I poked a gloved finger into the copper letter box and raised the flap . 
The corridor hall was laid with polished orange and brown linoleum , covered down the middle with a runner of plain beige carpet , like a continuation of the path . 
The hall-stand held one umbrella , impeccably furled , one horn-handled walking-stick , a heavy raincoat on a hanger , a series of crisp trilbies and a check cap . 
Beyond that the shadows took over . 
I lowered the flap gently and side-stepped to the bay window on the left . 
Squinting through the geraniums I saw a green three-piece suite , a bureau , dining table and chairs of dark oak , a red leather tufty , and one of those modern cut-down pianos . 
The empty fireplace was shielded by a blue hydrangea in a pot that had been painted green . 
Above the tobacco jar on the chimney-piece six pipes hung from a rack . 
The seventh slot was vacant . 
There were two letters in the middle of the table , one under a heavy glass paper-weight . 
The outline of the case which follows will , I hope , be sufficient to secure a withdrawal of the questions . 
If this fails , I shall of course be glad to offer the Members concerned a full and free opportunity to question me , as well as the officers who have conducted the investigation , in whatever fashion they think fit . 
Their suspicions are the more ironical in that Gillian was actually arrested yesterday morning , on my personal instructions . 
Since the Department of Public Prosecutions regards the evidence against him as insufficient , the arrest was made without a warrant ; and within a couple of hours Gillian was inevitably once again a free man . 
My action did , however , succeed in its intended purpose : Gillian and Mrs Wynter had planned to be married yesterday afternoon ; as a result of the scene that occurred in my office the marriage will not now take place . 
You will say , and rightly , that it is no business of the police to discourage people who wish to marry murderers . 
Nonetheless , when one partner is completely unsuspicious , there is , I believe , a good deal to be said on humane grounds for at least dropping a hint . 
In fact , the simple ruse we employed succeeded handsomely , thereby confirming the theory we had formed as to the only possible method by which this perplexing murder can have been committed . 
Gillian 's arrest was so contrived that Mrs. Wynter would be with him at the time ; she was " allowed " to accompany him to Scotland Yard , and on arrival both of them were brought to my office . 
Also present were Superintendent Colleano ( in charge of the case ) , Detective-Inspector Pugh ( who made the arrest ) , and a shorthand writer ( P. C. Clements ) . 
Despite Mrs. Wynter 's urgings , Gillian declined to send for a solicitor ; his attitude was fatalistic throughout and he looked ill . 
I need hardly say that if Gillian 's arrest had been anything other than a trick there would have been no question of my confronting him personally . 
As it was , I was able to use our previous acquaintance as a pretext for the meeting . 
I told him , quite untruthfully , that I had just returned from leave , and was anxious for old times ' sake to hear an account of the circumstances which had resulted in the Deputy A.C. 's ordering his arrest , and to look into the matter in person ; and it is the measure of the queer , apathetic state he was in that he apparently swallowed this preposterous tale without turning a hair . 
The proceedings opened with Colleano 's giving me a summary of the case . 
From our point of view this was mere camouflage ; but it is necessary to repeat it here for the purpose of clarifying what happened subsequently . 
Approximately two years ago , Dr. Harold Wynter , a general practitioner working in the Somerset town of Midcastle , was tried for , and convicted of , the manslaughter of a patient through gross negligence . 
The evidence against him was by no means decisive , but both judge and jury seem to have been influenced by the fact that the doctor himself was a morphine addict . 
He was adjudged guilty and sentenced to imprisonment for three years . 
At Nottsville Prison — to which Gillian had a year previously been appointed governor — Wynter 's first few weeks were spent in the infirmary , where he was weaned of his addiction before being transferred to the cells . 
Very shortly afterwards , however , he began to suffer from attacks of { 6angina pectoris . 
Accordingly , he was excused from all serious exertion ; and in addition — since he proved a model prisoner — was allowed a cell to himself , so that he mingled with the other prisoners only on the occasions when he took light exercise in the yard . 
His wife , Ellen Wynter , wrote to him regularly and seems to have visited him as often as she could ; these visits were , however , restricted in number owing to the fact that for financial reasons she had been obliged to take a job some considerable distance away . 
In the ordinary course of things — taking into account remissions for good conduct — Wynter would have been released in October of this year . 
On April 23rd he died in his cell . 
This was discovered when luncheon was brought to him at noon on that day . 
In the absence of contra-indications , the death was ascribed to the angina — for although a man suffering from this complaint may , and often does , live on for a great many years , there is no guarantee that any single attack may not finish him . 
As with all prison deaths , however , an inquest was held . 
But there was no { 6post mortem , since none seemed to be called for , and on April 27th Wynter was buried in the prison cemetery , his death being certified as due to his heart disease . 
There the matter might well have rested . 
Three days later , however , we received here at Scotland Yard an anonymous letter which accused Gillian of having poisoned Wynter with a plant spray containing nicotine ; Gillian 's motive , the writer added , was infatuation with Wynter 's wife . 
I myself ordered that this accusation be investigated , and there proved to be sufficient plausibility in it to justify us in exhuming Wynter 's body . 
The stomach was shown to contain a small but sufficiently lethal quantity of nicotine ; in consequence of this , a full-scale examination of the circumstances was at once put in hand . 
The writer of the anonymous letter was traced easily enough . 
He was a warder at Nottsville named Parker , who conceived himself to have a grudge against the Governor , and who purely by chance had come to hear of the irregular association which did in fact exist between Gillian and Mrs. Wynter ; the nicotine , he said , was only a guess , based on the fact that he knew this type of plant spray was used occasionally on the Governor 's shrubbery . 
It was a suspiciously good guess , and Superintendent Colleano devoted plenty of time and energy to investigating whether Parker himself had opportunity or motive for poisoning Wynter . 
In the end , however , it was established that he had neither . 
A second possibility was that Wynter 's death had some connection with the death of the patient he was alleged to have neglected ; but this again proved unlikely , if not impossible . 
To cut a long story short , the closest checking and counter-checking failed to establish a motive for Wynter 's death in any of the prison staff — except Gillian . 
Gillian 's motive , however , was undeniably a strong one : he was in love with Mrs. Wynter . 
There is no doubt , by the way , that Wynter was devoted to his wife , to the extent that — in her view — he would never have agreed to divorce her ; and in spite of his illness he might well have lived for many years after his release from Nottsville . 
As to the manner in which Gillian and Mrs. Wynter became acquainted , that , I think , calls for no detailed description here . 
It is worth noting , however , that Gillian 's obsession with the woman was by no means a happy one . 
The husband was a prisoner in his personal charge , undergoing a relatively savage sentence for a crime of which he may quite possibly have been innocent ; moreover , Wynter loved his wife ; and finally , he was an incurable invalid . 
To a man with Gillian 's record for probity these considerations may well have been horribly distressing ; he himself has said that they worried him deeply — and his anxiety was naturally compounded by the fact that from the official point of view his surreptitious relationship with Mrs. Wynter was an unforgivable offence for which his resignation would certainly be demanded as soon as the truth became known . 
As you are aware , that resignation was tendered , and accepted , a fortnight ago . 
Since Gillian is a wealthy man in his own right , his financial position will not be affected ; at the same time , for a man with his long and devoted connection with the penal service , the wrench must have been considerable . 
Was Gillian 's passion for Mrs. Wynter sufficiently strong to override all these considerations ? 
Unquestionably it was ; and if so , we may not unreasonably assume that it was strong enough to impel him to the act of murder . 
He had motive , he had means . 
Unfortunately , what he seems quite definitely not to have had was opportunity . 
The medical evidence as to the time of Wynter 's death , and how long he took to die , is regrettably uncertain ; but there is a definite consensus of opinion to the effect that Wynter could not have ingested the poison earlier than breakfast time — that is to say , 7.30 a.m. on the day of his death . 
It seems equally certain , however , that the nicotine was not in Wynter 's breakfast ; two warders ( perfectly reputable men ) were concerned in the serving of this , and moreover they were , as it happened , accompanied on this occasion by one of H.M. Inspectors of Prisons , who had been staying in Nottsville overnight ; without going into the matter in detail , I can assure you that short of a conspiracy among these three it is absolutely impossible for the poison to have been administered in Wynter 's breakfast . 
But if not at this time , when ? 
On the morning of his death Wynter did not , as it chanced , require fresh materials for the work he performed in his cell ; and the result of this was that the next visit paid to him was at lunch-time — when his dead body was discovered . 
It is certain that between 7.30 and noon Wynter was alone in his cell in E block , and that during this period he came in contact with no one — neither with Gillian nor with anyone else . 
These circumstances would seem to point either to suicide or to murder by trickery — for example , Wynter might previously have been given a preparation of nicotine under the guise of medicine , and have consumed it of his own volition some time on the morning of his death . 
There exists , however , an insuperable objection to both assumptions : before breakfast on that particular morning a snap search of the cells in E block was carried out . 
These searches are routine , but they are nevertheless thorough ; and because of the recent suicide of Pickering at Tawton Prison , special attention is currently being paid to the possibility of concealed poison . 
The upshot , as it applies to Wynter , you will guess : no pills or powders or capsules or fluids were found in his cell other than the small supply of trinitrini tablets which he was allowed to keep by him in case of an angina attack . 
Of these , at the time of the search , there were three , in a sealed container ; and there is irrefutable evidence to prove that this same container was still there , still sealed and intact , when Wynter 's body was discovered ( it was , of course , noticed particularly for the reason that at the time Wynter 's death was assumed to be the result of an angina attack sufficiently disabling to have prevented him from getting at the tablets ) . 
Now , Gillian 's last direct encounter with Wynter had taken place more than a week before the death ; and on that occasion , as always , another member of the prison staff was present — this precaution is so invariable in dealing with convicts that if Gillian had at any time departed from it in his dealings with Wynter , the fact must inevitably have become known to us . 
How , then , can Gillian possibly have committed this murder ? 
Or if it was suicide , how can Gillian or anyone else possibly have supplied Wynter with the means ? 
The three warders who conducted the search on the morning of the death might conceivably have conspired together to make Wynter a present of poison ; but in view of their excellent record this was not a possibility which Colleano felt able to accept so long as another , and likelier , explanation of the circumstances remained open to him . 
And such an explanation did exist . 
Despite the external appearances of what thriller-writers describe as an " impossible murder " or a " locked-room mystery , " the ingenious yet simple way in which Wynter had been murdered was easily deduced from the facts I have given above .