“But why has he asked the committee to come to the island? It must be something to do with the murder?”

She was curious. She was even enjoying the drama of it. She did not seem concerned, personally threatened in any way.

At the quay nobody asked John what it was all about. He had been expecting awkward questions, questions which he would be unable to answer. He had performed certain tasks for George, but they seemed meaningless. Perhaps the passengers were frightened to express too much curiosity or interest, in case it was misinterpreted. Even when they had all climbed into the Land Rover, but John did not begin the slow drive down the slipway and on to the shore, nobody asked the reason for the delay. They talked, among themselves, about the weather, gardening, last night’s television. John was looking at his watch and at the lane from the main road. He was beginning to become concerned about the tide. Then he saw the small, red car through the gaps in the hedges. It was driving very fast. John knew what to expect, and prepared to enjoy the surprise of the guests. The car pulled up and Connibear got out of the driver’s seat. It must be his own car, John thought. There was a child’s seat in the back, and the shelf was untidy with toys. Nicholas Mardle climbed out of the passenger seat and pulled a rucksack after him.

At first they were stunned. They seemed not to take it in, not only because his appearance was so unexpected, but because he seemed to have changed, to be a different boy. In less than a week he seemed to have become thinner, his skin seemed clearer. Perhaps they had remembered only a caricature, investing it with the dark significance of his supposed wickedness, and the reality had not changed at all. But even to John it seemed that it had.

Mark responded first. He jumped out of the Land Rover, ran over to Nick, shook his hand, put his arm around his back. Then they were all out, all asking questions.

Connibear pushed through the small crowd to the boy. Nick disengaged himself, turned to the policeman. They shook hands.

“Thanks for the lift,” Nick said.

“Least I could do. No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings.”

“Good luck then.”

He grinned, winked and walked back to his car.

John hurried them all back into the Land Rover and drove towards the island.

Elizabeth and Molly had coffee ready for the common room. Nick stood by the fire and fended off their questions.

“Yes, I’ve been released. Savage finally believed my story. George persuaded him, I think. And then arranged for you all to be here for a sort of welcome-home party.”

George smiled, but he said nothing. When they asked how he knew that Nicholas was to be released, how Savage had been persuaded, he was noncommittal.

“Have they arrested someone else then?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t think so.” Nick was too intoxicated by his freedom to worry about the implications of it for anyone else. “Apparently I gave them some information which pointed to the identification of the real killer. They can’t act on it yet, but I’m to be the star witness.”