‘Well, we will talk that over later. Do you not wish to know how it went with your aunt?’
At this incongruous way of putting it, Margaret gave an hysterical little squeal of laughter which her brother stifled by giving her a slight but meaningful kick on the ankle.
‘What did the coroner’s jury decide?’ he asked his father.
‘An open verdict was returned. We may expect the police to be interested. The medical evidence was that she had hit her head and was dead by the time the body had reached the water. It is quite established that death was not by drowning.’
‘So police action is contemplated? Oh, well, that’s a good thing, I suppose, although nobody wants to be mixed up with the rozzers.’
‘From the point of view of common justice it is, as you say, a good thing, my boy. I do not believe that your aunt, knowing the island and its dangers from high winds — the man Dimbleton told the court of cattle which had been blown over the cliffs, incidents within his own experience — I cannot believe that your aunt would have exposed herself to such an obvious danger.’
‘No, it doesn’t seem likely that Aunt Eliza would have taken that sort of risk,’ said Sebastian. ‘Besides, I don’t believe the winds at this time of year would be all that strong. I mean, Maggie and I have walked all round the island, on and off, since we’ve been here, and on the cliff paths, too, and although it’s true that the wind never seems to stop blowing, we never felt we were in any danger of being blown over.’
‘So,’ said Marius, ‘I suggest that you two leave the island and that I employ a private detective to look after my interests. I do not rule out my first impression, which was that your aunt met with foul play. I do not care, either, for the thought that Ransome and his father live on the island and have an interest, very possibly, in Lizzie’s death.’
‘Well, you thought we ourselves might have an interest in it, Father,’ said Margaret, with a bluntness and a boldness which surprised her hearers and herself.
‘Here, steady on, Maggie!’ protested her brother.
‘Really, my dear!’ remonstrated Marius.
‘Well,’ said the girl, facing these strictures with the grimness of one who now felt that, having started a hare, she had better pursue it to the kill, ‘suppose you do employ a private detective, Father, and suppose he does find out that there was something suspicious about Aunt Eliza’s death, isn’t it going to occur to somebody that she was quite all right until we decided to visit the island? It seems…’ Margaret faltered a little, but continued, albeit without quite daring to meet her father’s eye ‘… it seems pretty logical to me. I mean, do we really want to start people talking?’
Sebastian suddenly decided to back her up.
‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘can bring Aunt Eliza back, so I can see Maggie’s point, Father. A private-eye might stir up all sorts of mud. I mean, Aunt Eliza’s past isn’t exactly that of Caesar’s wife, is it? I’ve got to go back to college in the autumn, and Maggie’s got another year at school. We don’t want to have to live down Aunt Eliza’s murder or something else unsavoury. There’s your own professorship, too, to think about, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I should hardly lose that through the death of my only sister,’ said Marius stiffly and, almost for the first time in their lives, speaking as man to man with his son. ‘That is unless there were some reason for thinking that I had a hand in it. All the same, if there was something criminal, I feel I owe it to your aunt’s memory to have it unmasked.’
‘Yes, quite, and all very fine, but dirty linen isn’t only grubby, Father. It also is inclined to stink.’
‘Father,’ said Margaret suddenly, ‘you mentioned Ransome just now. There’s something you ought to know about him. If Seb hadn’t happened to be on the spot, the chances are that Ransome could have been murdered. What we ought to do—’
‘Ransome murdered?’
‘He himself says he thinks it was only horse-play,’ said Sebastian, ‘but I’m not sure he’s telling his true thoughts. It was only a day or two ago…’ He told the story truthfully but economically.
‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed his father. ‘Witches and warlocks, bird-watchers and thugs! What sort of place is this island? I am more anxious than ever that you should leave it.’
‘Father,’ said Margaret, ‘Seb and I still want to stay. We thought we might be able to get Dame Beatrice to look into things. You said she was a criminologist and a consultant psychiatrist to the Home Office, didn’t you? We promised Laura—her secretary, you know — that we’d let them know what happened at the inquest, and as you mentioned bringing in a private detective, what about your getting in touch with Dame Beatrice? She wouldn’t stir up mud, so, if it would make you any happier—’
‘My dear child, I can’t ask Dame Beatrice to act as a private detective! It would be an insult to suggest such a thing to a person of her eminence.’
‘Of course you couldn’t ask her outright. I realise that. But there wouldn’t be any harm in telling her about the inquest and seeing how she reacts, particularly as she was the first doctor to see the body. She might even want to give you her views when she’s heard what you have to say. Do speak to her, Father. She is bound to be discreet and, if she did decide to look into the thing, it would relieve your mind, you know it would, and you couldn’t have a cleverer person on your side if all that you think about her is true.’
‘I do not need anybody “on my side” as you call it, but perhaps it would not be a bad thing to canvass Dame Beatrice’s views. Very well. I will go along to Puffins as soon as we have dined.’
‘I still think you’d do better to leave things as they are,’ said Sebastian. ‘Pig or no pig, I mean.’
‘Pig? What are you talking about?’
‘You had better ask Dame Beatrice,’ said Margaret.
chapter fourteen
Pursuit of a Vendetta?
‘What’s that to me? I waft not fish nor fowls,
Nor beasts (fond thing) but only human souls.’
Robert Herrick
« ^ »
Margaret, to her brother’s surprise, had brow-beaten Miss Crimp into giving Marius a room in the house.
‘I did think, Seb,’ she said, ‘that it would be the last thing to have him sharing the chalet, even for a night or two. He was most intrigued about the pig, wasn’t he? As for me, the more I think about things, the creepier they seem to get. Murders and witches and gangsters are all very well in books and on television, but I find I do rather bar them in real life. Anyway, I’m tired of the island. There’s nothing more to do here—’
‘Except find out who killed Aunt Eliza.’
‘I don’t want any part of that. It isn’t as though we knew her, and now there’s been a murderous attempt on Ransome as well, I think we’re better away from it all. What occurs to me is that we’re members of the same family, and people know it.’
‘Oh, nonsense, Maggie! Nobody on the island connects us with Ransome and Aunt Eliza!’
‘Miss Crimp does.’
‘Miss Crimp?’
‘She’s got this partnership in the hotel. She knows The Tutor is Aunt Eliza’s brother. That means she knows we’re related to Ransome. Well, she’s got rid of Aunt Eliza—or somebody has — and my bet is that she’s at the bottom of this business of trying to drown Ransome. She may even think it has succeeded. If it had done, that would have left our family as Aunt Eliza’s only relatives. Of course I know it all depends on Aunt’s will, but apart from any question of money or property, who else would have any reason to murder Aunt Eliza? The Crimp probably hated her. I’m sure she hates us.’