“All right, so it’s going to be a shambles. Get moving.”
He gave a sigh of resignation and got moving. The other two followed. Lawrence stayed with the boat.
They came to the palm-trees and went in among them. It was darker there. Fletcher had a torch in his pocket, but he had no need to use it; he knew the way well enough, for he had often used this route from Joby’s to the beach. The three of them kept close together and in a little while they were clear of the palms. There was rough grass underfoot and the ground rose slightly to a low ridge before descending again on the other side. The shadowy outline of Joby’s bungalow came in sight soon after that, with the trees in the back garden, and a few yards further on they came to the fence.
They all halted. The bungalow was dark and silent. There was no sound but the dry rustle of leaves and the soft murmur of the sea.
“You’d better wait here,” Fletcher said.
He felt the brief touch of Leonora’s hand. “You won’t be long?”
“I won’t be long,” he said; and hoped it was the truth. If he were long it would mean that he had hit trouble.
He climbed over the fence and made his way past the hammock slung between the two coconut palms and round to the front of the bungalow. He took the key from his pocket and groped for the keyhole. He inserted the key very carefully and turned it with equal care. There was a faint click as the tongue of the lock slid back. He turned the knob gently and pushed the door open.
There was a mat which the bottom of the door just touched with a light brushing sound that seemed abnormally loud to his ears. The hall was no more than a narrow passageway and his room was on the right. He left the front door standing half-open and moved in the darkness to the door of his own room, opening it with the same infinite care he had used with the other. He stopped just inside the room and took the torch from his pocket and switched it on.
In this small light the room appeared to be exactly as he had left it: the suitcase he had packed was on the floor half under the bed and there was a canvas holdall with a zip-fastener lying on top of the wardrobe. He laid the torch on the bed and picked up the suitcase and put it on the bed also. He took down the holdall and filled it hurriedly with the things he had not already packed; then zipped it up.
He had put the camera on the dressing-table after Captain Green had had his look at it, and now he went to pick it up — and that was the first shock. It was no longer there.
He stood perfectly still for a few moments, beginning to sweat and wondering who the devil could have taken it, until suddenly he remembered that before leaving to go down to the Treasure Ship he had put it away in the bottom drawer of the dressing-table. He bent down and pulled out the drawer, and it was one of the tight-fitting kind that nobody has yet succeeded in pulling out silently. It seemed to make a hell of a noise and nearly dragged the dressing-table with it, and by the time he had got it open he was really sweating. But the camera was there, and the films and all the rest of the gear, and he stowed the lot in a big leather case and slung the carrying-strap over his shoulder.
He picked up the holdall and suitcase with one hand and switched off the torch and dropped it into his pocket — and that was when he had the second shock. There was a sharp click and the light came on in the room and there was Joby Thomas standing in the doorway with a machete in his hand.
“So you came back,” Joby said softly. He was naked except for a pair of cotton trunks, and his skin gleamed like polished ebony.
“Yes,” Fletcher said, “I came back.”
“Why?”
“To get my things.”
“You shoulda come in daylight, not like a thief in the night.”
“There were reasons.”
“Sure, reasons. I bet. Now what you aimin’ to do?”
“I’m clearing out, Joby. Like I promised.”
“No,” Joby said.
Fletcher looked at him. There was something strange about Joby; he was not the old friendly companion he had once been; he had altered, hardened; there was even a kind of shiftiness in his eyes, a reluctance to meet Fletcher’s gaze. Above all, there was the machete in his hand. Fletcher experienced a feeling of uneasiness that he had never previously known in Joby’s company.
“What do you mean — no?”
“I mean you ain’t clearin’ out. Not now.”
“You’re stopping me?”
“That’s right,” Joby said. “I’m stoppin’ you.”
“Why, Joby, why?”
“’Cause you’re wanted; that’s why.”
“Wanted?”
“For murder.”
“Now look, Joby,” Fletcher said, “you don’t really believe I killed anyone.”
“I don’t know what you done. All I know’s the cops want you for murder an’ I gotta hold you.”
Fletcher could see how it was: Joby was protecting himself. Perhaps he had been warned that if his lodger came back he was not to let him go until the police came to pick him up. Joby might not like doing it; he certainly did not look happy; but he had to protect his own interests, and he had his family to think about. The family would certainly weigh more heavily with him than any past friendship with Fletcher.
The suitcase and holdall were beginning to put a strain on his left arm, and he set them down. Joby filled the doorway and there was no possibility of brushing past him.
“Would you use the machete?”
“You better not make me,” Joby said.
“You’re going to stand there and keep guard on me till morning?”
There was a hint of uncertainty in Joby’s eyes. He had probably not thought things out to the conclusion. It was a situation that could soon have become tedious if there had not been another interruption.
“Drop the machete or I’ll shoot you in the back,” Leonora said.
Fletcher could just see a part of her behind Joby; the rest was hidden. She must have become worried at the amount of time he was taking to fetch the camera and have decided to investigate, leaving King to keep watch. She had come in very silently by way of the open front door, so that neither he nor Joby had heard her; they had both been unaware of her presence until she had spoken.
Joby had stiffened but had not moved. The machete was still in his hand, dangling at his side. He had been taken completely by surprise and seemed at a loss what to do. The girl helped him to make up his mind by pressing the muzzle of the pistol she was holding into the small of his back. It must have felt cold on his bare skin, and Fletcher saw him give an involuntary shiver, though it might not have been entirely because of the cold.
“Drop it,” she said.
Joby dropped it and it fell with a slight clatter to the floor.
“Now go into the room,” Leonora said.
Joby walked into the bedroom and she followed him in and told him to turn round. He did so. She spoke to Fletcher.
“Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” Fletcher said.
It was her turn to show a little uncertainty. “We ought to go; but what do we do with him?”
Fletcher looked at Joby. “I don’t think he’ll make any more trouble. What do you say, Joby?”
Joby gave a resigned shrug of the shoulders. “What more you reckon I can do? I done what I had to, an’ it didn’ work. Ain’t nothin’ more to do now.”
“Right, then,” Leonora said. “Let’s go, John.”
She picked up the machete and carried it out, just to make sure Joby got no bright ideas about making use of it again. Fletcher picked up his luggage.
“I’m sorry, Joby.”
“Sure, sure,” Joby said. “It’s the way it goes, man.”
Fletcher heard Leonora calling him. She sounded impatient.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Sure,” Joby said.
He went out of the room and caught a glimpse of Paulina in a nightdress, looking scared.