“Did you get up early this morning to go to meet Mr. Todd?”

“I did not.” Unnecessarily, he added: “After breakfast I went out for a walk. Just down the island. To check the traps.”

But Savage was not interested in the ornithological routine of the island. He was beginning to feel the pressure of time. There always was pressure, but the incoming tide was relentless, completely inflexible, and that was something new. It was a challenge. He dismissed the doctor with a flash of a smile, but little courtesy.

“Do you want to see Mr. Packham or Mrs. Marshall again?” Connibear asked when the doctor had left the room.

“I don’t think so. I’ve not much time left, if I’m to get off this place before the tide comes in. I want to see everyone. Pamela Marshall and Jerry Packham had an argument, but Todd wasn’t mentioned at all. It could just have been a lovers’ tiff. Packham admitted that he was trying to cool things with the beautiful Pamela.” He gave the matter his full attention for a few seconds then set it aside. “It sounds like a domestic matter to me. Not relevant.”

He turned to Connibear. “ Let’s see the keen ringer—Nicholas Mardle.”

Nick Mardle looked older than his twenty years, prematurely middle-aged, with a sagging, pear-shaped body, dark, straggling hair. The only remnants of adolescence were his poor skin, his ungainly posture. Savage felt an initial impatience at the slovenly appearance, then restrained himself. The boy would have to be carefully handled.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” he said routinely.

“That’s all right,” the boy said. “We’re used to being treated like dirt. We do all the work here, but they still think of us as kids.”

The outburst surprised Savage. He said nothing. The boy did not have the experience to cope with silence. He would continue to talk.

“They treated Charlie in exactly the same way. You would never think that he actually owned the island. They decided where the traps should be built, how often the school parties should be allowed, all the matters of policy. Then they told the rest of us.”

“They?” Savage tried to speak mildly, but his impatience was influencing his style. The effect was rather one of controlled intensity, but Nick Mardle was too self-centred to notice.

“Doctor Derbyshire and Miss Carson. They consult Mrs. Marshall and Jerry Packham if they’re here, but they’re not very often. I come every weekend, and in the spring and autumn I walk over in the evenings if the weather is good for birds, but they only talk to me if they want me to do some maintenance work.”

“Doctor Derbyshire did say that you did most of the ringing here. I was hoping to talk to you about the nets, the ringing procedures.”

“Did he?” Nick was pleased but suspicious. “John rings more birds than me because he’s here all the time, but I do twice as much as anyone else.”