‘Well, there’s something in your argument, perhaps. Let’s wait until The Tutor has spoken to Dame Beatrice. That will probably decide matters, apart from any action the police may take.’
‘Shall we go with him to Puffins?’
‘I don’t suppose he’ll want us tagging along.’
It transpired, during conversation over the dinner table, that Marius had decided to ask his son, but not his daughter, to accompany him, but at this Margaret protested with so much vehemence that her father felt obliged to reconsider his offer.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I do not feel that I ought to inflict three of us on Dame Beatrice, so, my dear, if you feel put out at being left here alone, I will go by myself to Puffins and Sebastian shall stay here with you. Will that be satisfactory?’
‘Yes, thank you, Father.’
‘And, in any case, on second thoughts, Sebastian,’ said Marius, ‘perhaps it will be easier for both parties if I interview Dame Beatrice alone.’
‘Very well, Father,’ said Sebastian; but when their father had left the hotel for the short, downhill walk to Puffins, he turned on his sister reproachfully. ‘You little chump,’ he said. ‘Now bang goes our chance of getting in on the ground floor of this frightful but exciting business.’
‘The Tutor will tell us all about it, and report what Dame Beatrice has to say.’
‘Like hell he will! When did he ever take us completely into his confidence? He still thinks we’re a couple of kids and he’s as secretive as a clam, anyway. He’ll tell us just as much as he thinks it’s good for us to know, and that will be damn all, I can assure you. No, you young fathead, you’ve sold the pass. What on earth was there to be scared of, anyway, so long as you stayed in the hotel? You didn’t need to spend the evening alone in the chalet.’
‘I didn’t say I was scared. I didn’t see why I should be left out of the fun, that’s all.’
‘Oh, well, it’s all done with and settled now, so that’s that, I suppose.’
‘Well, stop complaining, then. I don’t often interfere with your plans. The fact is, Seb, that I don’t like and I don’t trust Miss Crimp, and the thought of being left alone here does scare me. She gives me goose flesh.’
‘Yet you bearded her in her den and made her give The Tutor a room. Oh, well, girls will be girls, I suppose. Perhaps we can pump Laura Gavin when we go for our morning bathe.’
‘Oh, Seb, I’m sorry I interfered.’
‘Say no more about it. What shall we do to pass the rest of the evening?’
‘Are we waiting up for The Tutor, then? There really doesn’t seem much point.’
‘Oh, well, you go to bed, then, but I expect he’ll like to find one of us awake when he gets back.’
‘I say, Seb, you do think Aunt Eliza was murdered for her money, don’t you?’
‘I don’t see what else there is to think. That’s if she was murdered, you know. It seems an open question.’
‘But if it was for what she had to leave, isn’t Ransome in rather a peculiar position?’
‘Well, I suppose he’d be one of the claimants, but, then, so are we, as you rather boldly pointed out to The Tutor.’
‘That’s true, so far as it goes. Why, though, did Ransome tell us Aunt Eliza was in debt? If that’s true, it lets him out.’
‘And us, too, no doubt—not that anybody could suspect The Tutor of murdering anybody. It isn’t his scene.’
‘To go back to Ransome…’
‘Well?’
‘Perhaps it’s only since Aunt’s death that he found out she had nothing to leave but debts.’
‘If we’re going in for wild speculations, the same could apply to Miss Crimp.’
‘But she denied that there were any debts, didn’t she?’
‘Could be camouflage. Anyway, it can be proved that, if Aunt Eliza was murdered, none of our family could have done it. She was dead before we set foot on the island.’
‘That’s a comfort, anyhow. Do you know, I think I will go to bed, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’
‘All right, unless you’d like a knock-up at table tennis first. Among the other (possibly unpaid-for) improvements listed on the brochure, I seem to remember a notice that one of the chalets is listed as a games room. Shall we toddle across and take a butcher’s?’
‘Oh, very well, then. We’d better change our shoes, though. I must, anyway. I can’t play table tennis in my evening shoes. Are you coming?’ (They were in the lounge of the hotel.)
‘No, I shan’t bother. If I can dance in these pumps, I can play table tennis in them.’
‘And your dinner jacket?’
‘Oh, well, look, then, we’ll stroll over to the chalets and out there I can shed my jacket and you can take it with you and bring me back my thin sweater while I repair to the games room and bag a table for our game.’
The large chalet which was called the games room was situated at the far end of the sunken garden so that any sounds which emanated from it should not penetrate to the other chalets and disturb the rest of their inhabitants.
Margaret and Sebastian, therefore, went their separate ways, he across the sunken garden and up the steps on the far side of it, she in almost the opposite direction. She had slung her brother’s dinner-jacket round her shoulders and was hitching it into position when she became aware that someone was standing at one of the windows of the chalet which she and Sebastian occupied. The sun was beginning to set and was going down in a blaze of splendour to the sea, but the sky was clear and the day was not yet done. It was an hour, however, when Margaret and her brother had usually retired to their chalet, not to sleep, but to read the books which Sebastian, who had guessed correctly the contents of Laura’s rectangular parcel when first she had come to the island, was in the habit of borrowing from time to time.
The golden glow of the declining sun seemed to be setting the windows of the chalet on fire, and Margaret, in any case, could not see the visitor’s face. His back was towards her, and his figure, against the almost blinding light, was nothing more than a silhouette. As the girl walked towards him she saw something more. He was busy at the window with the obvious intention of attempting to force it open. As soon as she realised this, Margaret ran forward, shouting:
‘Hi, there! What are you up to?’
At this the man turned and ran. He ran clumsily, for he was heavily built and did not appear to be in his first youth. Margaret made no attempt to pursue him, neither did she continue in her course towards the chalet. She stopped dead, her heart pounding. Then she turned and made off in the direction of the games room and flung herself at her astonished brother.
‘Where’s my sweater?’ he demanded.
‘A man!’ gulped Margaret. ‘A man trying to get into our chalet!’
Except for themselves the games room was empty. Sebastian took her by the shoulders and put her on to a bench which was against the wall.
‘Here, steady on,’ he said, ‘What’s all the panic about?’
‘A man! Trying to force a window. I’m sure he thought we were in there. Since Father went to the inquest we’ve always gone back there after dinner. We were sitting in the lounge a bit longer than usual tonight. Oh, Seb, I’m scared! First Aunt Eliza, then Ransome, now us. Oh, I’ll be so thankful when we go home! I hate this beastly place!’
‘Now, then, take it steady,’ said Sebastian. ‘I bet all you saw was somebody who’d mistaken our chalet for his own. Probably put away a couple too many in the bar. Come on, I’ll walk back over there with you. Why, it’s still daylight! Nobody tries to burgle a place—’