“Mmmm,” Pickering muttered in an affirmative fashion. “I expect you did the right thing. Did you see or touch Cutler after you went in?”
“No, I swam to where I thought he might be and dove for him, but I never saw or touched him.”
“Are you familiar with the tides in the Solent?”
“No.”
“The tide turned while you were sailing toward Cowes, so by the time you came off the wind and sailed toward the Beaulieu River, the tide would have been ebbing, and you might have had a couple of knots under you.”
“That would have made no difference in my search, since James, the yacht, and I would have all been equally affected by the tide.”
“Good point,” Pickering said. “Did Sarah say anything to you during this incident?”
“No, she didn’t have time before I went into the water, and I was in no state to have a conversation with her after they got me aboard again.”
“Good,” Pickering said, almost to himself. “Do you recall any display of attitude or emotion on her part after you were back aboard?”
“No, I was shivering too badly to notice, then I must have fallen asleep or passed out. I don’t remember being brought from the yacht back to the house.”
“Good,” Pickering repeated. “Well, I think that’s all; we can enjoy our breakfast now.”
“Have you spoken to Sarah?”
“Yes, about an hour ago.”
“How is she?”
“Grieving, feeling guilty that she may have done something to cause James’s death. That’s preposterous, of course.”
“It’s not preposterous, but in my judgment, for what it’s worth, the whole thing was an accident.”
Pickering gazed over Stone’s shoulder and out the window. He seemed to be considering something. “Tell me, Stone,” he said finally, “if I may call you that . . .”
“Of course.”
“What do you know of Sarah’s personal circumstances?”
“Not much. I haven’t seen her for a year or so, since she left New York.”
“I understand you were, ah, close, while she was there?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Have you had any contact with her since she left New York?”
“None at all, until we met here on Friday evening.”
“No letters or phone calls? Email?”
“No.”
“And how did you come to be here this weekend?”
“I was invited by Monica Burroughs.”
“Did you know that the house party was to be at the home of Sarah’s parents and that the occasion was the announcement of her engagement to James Cutler?”
“Not until we were driving down here from London.”
“So Sarah was surprised to see you?”
“No, I asked Monica to call her and explain that I was coming.”
“Had Monica not planned to tell her?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Why ever not?”
“I believe that Monica had intended my visit as a surprise.”
“I see.” He did not.
“I think it was probably mischievous on her part.”
“Oh, I see.” Now he did.
“But in any case, embarrassment was avoided by all because of Monica’s call to Sarah.”
“Good.”
“Do you think I could see Sarah? Is she up to it?”
“I suppose she is, but I’d rather no one who will be testifying tomorrow speak to her until after the inquest.”
“Would you tell her, then, that I asked after her and that I send my condolences?”
“Of course I will. I have one other question for you, Stone, and I would like this part of our conversation to be kept in the strictest confidence for the time being.”
“All right.”
“Are you aware that Sarah is James Cutler’s heir?”
“You mean she’s the beneficiary of his will?”
“Very nearly the sole beneficiary.”
“Is that sort of arrangement before a marriage common in this country?”
“It is not. I doubt if it is in the States, either.”
“In the States—or in New York, at least—they would be more likely to have a prenuptial agreement limiting Sarah’s benefits in the event of a divorce—or James’s, depending on Sarah’s circumstances.”
“Sarah’s circumstances are that she is a well-regarded painter with a nice income from her work, but she possesses no serious assets, except a long lease on her London flat. Whether she will inherit much from her father depends on the outcome of a number of lawsuits filed against him in connection with the collapse of an apartment building last year.”
“Was James particularly well off?”
“Let’s just say that Sarah is now the largest independent importer and distributor of wines in the United Kingdom, and she has widespread holdings in various French and Italian vineyards. She also now owns something upwards of a hundred and fifty wine shops and two hundred pubs. I doubt if she has much interest in running such a business, but it would bring a very large price if sold to one of the big wine and spirit conglomerates. Are you beginning to get my drift?”
“I believe I am,” Stone said.
Stone spent the remainder of the day reading more of Jane Austen in the library and joined the others for dinner, except Sarah, who dined in her room. Dinner was a quiet, almost somber affair, with little conversation. Everyone went to bed early, and Stone was not visited by anyone after retiring.