They all laughed, and the laughter shattered tensions. Alastair finished his beer, and said to Henry and Emmy, “All right then. Come and see how the poor eat.”
Ariadne’s cabin was warm and snug after the chilly trip in the dinghy. Alastair lit the paraffin stove, while Rosemary busied herself in the galley. The hot baked beans we
re accompanied by poached eggs, bacon and an excellent salad, and proved delicious. When they had all eaten, Alastair stretched his arms above his head, and said, “Well, I don’t know about anybody else, but I don’t propose to go sailing today. It’s cold and miserable and there’s not even enough wind to make it amusing.”
“I’m sorry you feel like that,” said Henry, “because I was going to ask you if we could go out this evening.”
“This evening?” Rosemary’s eyes widened in surprise. “Whatever for? Honestly, Henry—”
“Not you,” said Henry. “Not you or Emmy. Alastair and I can manage the boat alone, can’t we?”
Rosemary’s jaw became stubborn. “I don’t know what this is all about,” she said, “but if Alastair’s going I’m going too.”
“Rosemary—” Emmy began, but before she could get any further, Rosemary went on. “And in any case, you can’t possibly sail Ariadne without me. It’s all very well for you to talk, Henry, tied up snug in harbour, but suppose a gale blew up? It might easily. The glass is dropping. I don’t want to be offensive, but you just don’t know enough about boats. Does he?” She appealed to Alastair, who was looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t know what to think, Henry,” he said. “There’s something in what Rosemary says, you know. Couldn’t we take David or Hamish?”
“I told David he could go back to London this afternoon,” said Henry. “As for Hamish—well, to be frank, I’d rather keep this thing between ourselves, if you don’t mind.”
Emmy sat up very straight, and said, “Look here, Henry. If you’re going to involve Alastair and Rosemary in something dangerous, it’s surely only fair to tell them what it is.”
Henry, who was feeling tired and not a little depressed, said, “Of course. I was going to do that anyway.” He turned to Alastair. “I’m asking you to take Ariadne out to catch a murderer—the person who killed Pete Rawnsley and Colin Street.”
“It’ll be a pleasure,” Alastair said grimly.
“It may not be such a pleasure when you realize who it is,” Henry said sadly.
“Who is it, then?”
“I can’t tell you, yet,” said Henry, with genuine regret. “You see, I’ve no proof. I’m morally certain, and I’ve set a trap which I intend to spring this evening on Steep Hill Sands. If the murderer doesn’t take the bait, I’ll have to think of something else. This much, though, I can tell you...”
Rosemary distributed cups of coffee in silence, and then came and sat on her bunk, deeply absorbed, as Henry outlined the story of Colin’s deduction and David’s discovery of the jewels. He said nothing about the note he had written, but ended by remarking, “...and I have reason to believe that the murderer—who is, of course, the same person who stole the jewellery—will go out to Steep Hill Sands again this evening to dig up the rest of the stuff. Our only hope is to be there, on the spot.”
Alastair took his pipe out of his mouth, and said slowly, “That’s a pretty tall order, Henry. Anybody on Steep Hill would see us coming and—”
“So far,” said Henry, “the murderer doesn’t suspect that we know where the jewels are hidden. We’ll go for a perfectly ordinary sail—in fact, we’ll spread it around the Bush early this evening that we’re going out tonight. Where would it be reasonable for us to make for?”
“The Deben,” said Alastair promptly. “We could catch the ebb downriver and turn north.”
“Well, that’s exactly what we’ll do,” said Henry. “Except that in fact we’ll anchor just round the point, and you’ll put me off in the dinghy—”
“Not alone,” said Rosemary quickly.
“Of course not,” said Alastair.
Henry looked at them gratefully. “Perhaps, after all,” he said, “we’d better all go. You three can stay aboard, and—”
“No,” said Alastair, with great firmness. “I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t think,” said Henry carefully, “that the murderer will put up much resistance, once it’s established that—”
“Don’t talk rot,” Alastair interrupted brusquely. “We’ll leave the girls on board and you and I will put ashore.”
Henry smiled. “I’m very grateful,” he said. “So be it. I hate letting you in for this, but you understand that if I had Inspector Proudie roaring around in a police launch—”
“We can handle this ourselves,” said Alastair.
“Right,” said Henry. “Now, if you’ve a detailed chart of the river, we can lay our plans...”
They went ashore promptly at six. As they walked up the hard to The Berry Bush, Henry noticed a black police car parked in the yard outside the pub. Sure enough, Proudie was there to meet them.
“I’d like a word with you, sir,” said the inspector, adding somewhat aggrievedly, “Been looking all over the place for you.”
“O.K.,” said Henry. “Sorry, Inspector. You three go on in and order me a beer.”
As the others disappeared into the bar, Proudie said, “We’re on to Bob Calloway.”
“Really?”
“Phone message from London. He’s been spotted in Soho this evening.”
“Very interesting,” said Henry drily. “Who saw him?”
“One of your own chaps,” Proudie replied. “Saw him walking down Old Compton Street as bold as brass. Since you’d given orders not to arrest him”—Proudie could not keep a slight note of resentment out of his voice—“the constable shadowed him as far as the Club Parisienne, where he went inside. They’ve got a tail on him now. I suggest we—”
“We’ll do nothing, for the moment,” said Henry. “Let London look after Bob Calloway. There are things to be done here.”
He spoke quietly to Proudie for a few minutes, and then made his way into the bar.
Henry’s idea of spreading the news of Ariadne’s projected trip seemed doomed, for Alastair, Rosemary and Emmy were The Berry Bush’s only customers. A few minutes later, however, Old George came in with Herbert and Sam Riddle. Alastair took the opportunity of buying the Harbour Master a gin, furnished the others with pints of ale, and began at once to enlarge on the idea of a night sail to the Deben.
Herbert was gloomy. “Bad night,” he said, sticking his long, thin nose sadly into his gin. “Glass fallin’. Wind gettin’ up. Silly, if you arsk me.”
“Ain’t so bad nor that, Herbert,” Old George protested.
“Them as knows what’s good for ’em,” said Herbert cryptically, “’ull stay put at their moorings tonight.”
“Well, we’ve made up our minds,” said Alastair firmly. “Mr. Tibbett here wants to try a bit of night sailing, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“What time you plannin’ on leavin’, then, Cap’n Benson?” Herbert enquired.
Alastair glanced at his watch. “Soon,” he said. “Low water is at a minute past nine. I’ll need at least two hours of ebb to get me down the river and up the coast.”
“You beware of Steep Hill Sands, sir.” From his table, Sam Riddle spoke slowly, and with weight. “’Tisn’t a healthy place, not on a night like this.”
The others nodded, sagely.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be O.K.,” said Alastair cheerfully. “Well, Henry, I reckon we’d better be moving. There’s quite a lot to do on board.”
They drank their beer, and left. Henry suggested that they should drop in on Hamish on the way back, to tell him about the proposed trip.